#i see more bad spanglish than i need to

[dvasva]

some of yall need to be banned from writing rookanis fanfic until yall learn how bilingual people actually speak.

[dilf-docs]

Call It What You Want

husband!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: you and pedro are married, but you've kept it a secret up to the point you sometimes forget there's supposed to be a golden band on your finger. but then you both get cast in your first movie together. the chemistry is off the charts, and it starts to catch upon you: will the lines between shipping and reality finally blur?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ñom), smut, dry humping, oral (m. receiving) while pedro wears the skirt™️ (welcome to another episode of the writer's barely disguised fetish), p. in v., teeny bit of angst because i malfunction if i don't bring sad vibes to the function, the worst ever attempt of comedy witnessed by human kind, they're so down bad it hurts, jealous!reader, possesive!pedro, reader speaks spanish and may or may not have direct/indirect latino blood somewhere, use of spanglish but no translations ☹️ (boo go do your homework, citizens. that's what u get for making my dieter bravo fic flop BYE), i transcripted two real interviews for this so keep those likes, reblogs and comments up in the air where i can see 'em 🪓🪓

word count: 11,706 words

side note: hello! this is me, sliding my cv to become president of the pedro pascal fics. i'm kidding, just on duty to fulfill another request 🫡 believe it or not, i envisioned something like this but for myself IJBOL we have to keep the delusional levels UP!! i hope this meets ur expectations, it was fun to write :)

"Please welcome, the internet's newest darling, Y/n L/n!"

You walk into the set, cameras flashing bright and the band playing on the back. You hug Jimmy Fallon, and when he notices your body trembling he tells you everything will be alright. So did your manager before you stepped inside, but you can't help the nerves. You've never been this big before, and now it's all coming down together without letting you breath.

You take your seat and so does Jimmy.

"Hello, Y/n. This is your first time here, right?"

"Am I being too obvious?" you snort. The crowd laughs with you.

"Don't worry. It happens, especially when you're so young"

"Oh, please" you blush. "I can promise you there are kid actors who could handle this better than I am right now"

"Kid stars?" he lets out one of his famous cackles. "No need to be humble. You are great! Let's just talk about the year you've had: big breakout roles, ascend to fame, you're rocking it!" the crowd cheers, and you again turn into a flustered mess.

"Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to dimension when you've started as an extra for popular shows, to now being, you know, the main face of projects. But I could get used to it" you smile, "it's been a dream. I still can't believe it sometimes, look- I'm shaking"

The camera pans closer to the hand you're showing to Jimmy.

"Oh my God, even big stars like you get nervous"

"Big star? I wish I could feel like a constellation. I'm feeling more like a red dwarf star, baby"

The whole place bubbles in laughter. You feel better, your manager even giving you a thumbs up from behind the cameras.

"So, Y/n" Jimmy says once the laughter dies. "You just got casted in the upcoming Gladiator II movie, directed by Ridley Scott. How does it feel to be on your first big movie, alongside names like Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington and Pedro Pascal?"

You try to steady your heartbeat. "First of all, I have to say, it's such an honor to work with Scott. I grew up watching his movies. Like, Thelma and Louis is definitely my go-to movie. So, like, getting paired with such a talented cast is as awesome as terrifying" you answer with a laugh.

"Talking about that, you see" he leans closer, like he'll tell a secret. "I've heard things about you and a certain future co-star of yours"

You shift your position on the couch, your ring(less) finger itching. You have to avoid breathing in relief when Jimmy pulls out a picture.

"Oh. My. God"

He stiffles a laugh. No way. Has the room's temperature suddenly gotten hotter? Why is your face burning?

"Will you tell us the story behind this?" he asks, the camera focusing on the picture in question. The audience laughs, and you pray to God this is a nightmare, because it's too much embarrasment for a human to bear.

"Okay" you clear your throat, coughing awkwardly. "For my 25th birthday, I uploaded a bunch of pictures on Instagram, including ones where I was a teenager" you begin to giggle, "So. Um, there was this one, you see, that's, me, in my childhood home's bedroom, and my fans were quick to notice the poster above my bed"

"You mean, this one?" and Jimmy points it out. You cover your face with your palms. "It's a... Narcos poster" the audience laughs as you get redder. "A Pedro Pascal's Narcos poster"

"I know" you groan. "Picture this: me 18, and while my friends had posters of their favorite bands and artists, I was so different because I had a whole ass poster of a crime drama show about the world's most famous drug dealer on my bedroom" you recall with a laugh. "It was hard to explain to my mom. I believe she thought I wanted to sign for the DEA or something. When I told her I was going to be an actress, she was so relieved! She said: Oh, well. You'll die, but of hunger! Not a bullet in your head, at least"

"Oh. I'm so sorry. You proved her wrong though!"

"I did! Don't worry, Jimmy. She's my biggest fan now" you look at a specific camera before saying, "Te amo mami!"

"I see you speak spanish. I sometimes forget" he comments. "You've got one thing in common with Pedro, it seems. Think that'll make working with him less awkward?"

"I just hope he forgives me or I'm capable of moving out of the country and changing names" you giggle. "Pedro, lo siento!"

"Well, that's Y/n L/n, everyone! Pedro Pascal's number one fan" you burst out laughing in shame. "More on her lastest movie after the break"

mandoshoney: tell me i'm not the only one who started shipping pedro pascal and y/n l/n PLEASE can't wait to get content of them interacting ㅤㅤann-gell: mandoshoney y/n's pedro pascal's controversially young gf era starts now! i wonder how the press tour for #gladiatorII will go 🤔 unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they are dating ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess ptwt can never tweet like normal ppl…wdym you're betting your grandma?!!!?

You were never a fan of secrets.

But then Pedro waltzed into your life with his charming smile and iconic mustache, and before you knew it, you had married him off in some church in California one random sunday morning ("I love you so much, can't wait to marry you, cariño" "If you can't wait any longer, why not now?")

Flash forward, four years later, and you'd think such event would be plastered all over the internet. But there is a reason why only you, family, a selected number of friends and your agents knew: you kept it a secret.

To the world, he was Chile's most elegible bachelor and you were a young rising star. The public loved both of you for the same reasons: charming persona and acting skills. Yet inside the privacy of your home, he was Pedro and you were y/n, wife and husband; he was yours as you were his.

And of course, no marriage is perfect, and your first real challenge is rather funny: you both get casted in your first movie together.

It shouldn't be hard, but it is. Being inside the Gladiator II set during seven months, so far away yet so close at the same time, was torture. You were Rome's empress and he's Marcus Acacius, yet behind the scenes, the actual married couple were you both.

It was hard to pretend you didn't know what he looked like without clothes when he wore his bathing suit, or that you didn't know his favorite food when Paul asked, or acting like you weren't interested in dating when a local in Malta during your trip at the beach asked you out (he didn't know who you were. You were flattered when he called you pretty in such a hot European accent, but then Pedro appeared from seemingly "nowhere" and you remembered what your real favorite accent was. He immediately called you bonita after that)

It was so hard to keep hands to yourself when he walked by you, covered in fake blood. To not think about licking it all over and under his armour. So was to pretend the thought of dry humping him with his Roman skirt on wasn't tempting. Or that the urge to kiss him got harder and harder to fight each passing day, even getting to a point where you would envy Connie for being able to kiss your husband in the open more, a privilege you didn't have.

You were loosing your mental health here. But Pedro was no better.

It was so hard to see you, the Moroccan sun shining over your features like you were an angel. Otherworldly. That he'd see red when you'd finish filming a scene with Joseph, forcing himself to interrupt the small chat you'd engage in after. He too couldn't keep pretending he didn't want to tear off those silk dresses out of your body, and kiss you out in the open like Joseph did.

He almost failed once, cornering you in the hallway of the hotel you were staying. His hot breath lingered on your neck. I miss you, he had said. You felt his hard brush the inner of your thigh. We can't, you whispered in a dragged out voice.

It was hard.

So you gave him your used panties, and you swear you could hear him jacking off in the bathroom of his room, next to yours. He'd screamed your name, and your hand had found it's way to your dripping cunt, doing what he was supposed to do; touching you the way he did. And you came, drowned out moans against your pillow. But it wasn't like when he did it.

But God has heard your prayers.

For the first time in weeks, you're lucky. You find Pedro sitting alone in the cafeteria, his phone in hand. He's still wearing his armour and skirt, not bothering to change for the break. You aren't God's strongest soldier, but you're trying not to go down on him so badly right here and now.

"Hey" he raises his head when he hears your voice, smile adoringly. It only grows wider when he notices you alone. "Thought you'd never get rid of Paul. He's like, stitched to you"

"Same can be said about you and Joseph" you sit across him, and despite most of his tone being playful, there are still hints of jealousy behind. It arouses you deeply, and with this hot summer day above you, your skin isn't the only thing that's getting sticky.

"In case you haven't read the script, I'm his wife" you wink. "Sorry this is how you find out"

He laughs loudly, and God, how have you missed that laugh. Sure, it's been there when you've been out with the cast together, but it doesn't tingle your chest as when you're the cause of it; it feels like it's for you only, and that's what makes it special.

"I miss you so much" he whispers, his hand sliding across the table, finding yours. His thumb carresses your soft palm, and you melt under Pedro's tender touch.

"I do too" you sigh, but it's instantly replaced by what could only be described as a smug face. You lean closer, whispering on his ear, the warm meeting cold. He shivers. "Wanna know something?"

"I'm all ears"

"I just came back from walking. Guess what?No one is 'round here" you lean back against your chair, shit-eating grin on your face as all his body tenses up. "Made sure of it. The trailer zone is empty too"

Pedro gulps, his adam's apple bobbing as his eyes look at you.

"Y/n" calling your name as a warning.

"What? Can't a girl find ways to have her husband all for herself?" you snort. "Please say yes" you let go of his hand, but the free fingers now travel across his broad chest, taunting him. "C'mon, we both deserve a break"

He can't say deny you anything, can he? You know it, he knows it.

Before you register, his big hand engulfs yours as you run across the set. You giggle at his rushed steps, even more when you stand before his trailer and he's fumbling his slippery hands with the doorknob, sloppy movements erratic.

"But you told me to stop" you tease, and he doesn't even let you add more because he's pushing you inside, forcing you with rough calloused hands to a chair and then you to sit over his lap.

"Fuck, babygirl. I've spoiled you way too much" he groans against your lips. "Lo sabes, ¿verdad? Just can't say no to you"

Your eyes darken dangerously, the hunger on them mirroring his own.

"How could you ever say no to this?"

You press your chest against his broad one as your lip bites into his lower one, teasing. Pedro feels his underwear getting tighter when your tongue finds its way inside his mouth, even getting a glimpse of the taste of the strawberries you had earlier before.

He deepens the kiss, and when you pull away to catch your breath, he doesn't waste his lonely mouth and busies himself with the task of kissing your sun-kissed neck, licking and pressing his lips under your jaw. Pedro goes even lower, down until he's reached your collarbone, making you groan a bit under his wet sloppy needy mouth. He's enjoying how putty you are under his intense kissing, fingers in his curls, that have begun to damp under the ablaze of the small space and pleasure that fills the air.

"Kiss me again in my lips" you whine after a while of him teasing you with kisses that get only rougher. "Pretty please, papi"

You cup his face in your hands, and Pedro's back to kissing you in the mouth, tasting all of your insides as he hasn't had in what feels like a lifetime.

"Of course, baby. Missed this pretty mouth" he mumbles in between hot kisses, his now growing boner pressing into you.

"Baby" you giggle. The skirt he's got on may hide it, but your fingers refused to wait, pulling it up. His bulge presses against the shorts he's got under the skirt, and you can feel your pussy and mouth drool. "We have to do something about this big boy" your hands pull down the short, leaving just his underwear on. He's about to remove the skirt, but your demanding hands stops him. "This stays"

His brown concerned eyes make you laugh, but you don't give him time to think about it, rather grinding against his erection. Pedro's breath hitches when he feels your daring movements, bucking his hips against yours.

The friction is addicting, and he captures your lips once again to make you feel what he can't with words: how fucking good this feels.

You keep moving over his aching dick. Your husband throws his head back, groaning in pleasure at the way your hips move against him, knowingly. His hands find their way to your ass under the flowy almost translucent skirt you chose to change in, gripping the rosy skin tightly, hands almost covering all of it.

"You wore this for me, right, cariño? Knew I couldn't say no" he groans, firm hands on your cheeks, the grinding meeting his hips now harsher. "Less with you walking around with this slutty skirt of yours"

You make little sounds he's obssesed with, dripping out of your filthy mouth.

"Fuck" Pedro groans after a while, "I need to have you, mami. Missed you so much" eager fingers make it to your top. He growls, deep within him―guttural, ready to pull it off as he mumbles naughty wife when he realizes you got no bra on, chastising you for a "rushed" plan that seemed planned all along, when a sound cuts through the air.

You both stop.

The sound gets clearer.

It's a knock. A knock at his door.

A knock in Pedro's trailer.

And you are inside. Both.

While you're grinding him.

With his skirt on.

(It's time to build a bomb and kill yourselves off and whoever is stading behind that door)

"Pedro!" a familiar accent calls. Peudrou. It's Paul. "Hey, man. Just wondering if you are here"

He's debating on speaking up when he sees your red face and rising-falling chest before him.

"Answer" you whisper breathlessly. He tries not to groan when he fills you slip out of the spot in his middle while also trying not to think about murdering Paul as soon as he gets out.

Aside from the order, you're unexpectedly quiet, and Pedro quirks an eyebrow at you. He knows you better―you're his wife after all, and if there's something he's aware of, is your inability to loose.

"I'm here" tone clipped and annoyed. But no footsteps backtracking are heard: the Irish man is still there.

You bite your lip, watching the skirt with his legs spread, a sight too tempting. Also, he was still hard, as hard as the task to not go and keep doing your job.

Oh, fuck this shit.

Your devilish hand equals the grin in your face, fingers making their way toward his unattended bulge.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asks, but Pedro's attention has completely deviated, now focused on how they land right over his clothed dick, skirt pulled up by your other hand. "I thought you were at the cafeteria"

"Yeah?" but it comes out strained, yet the younger man doesn't notice or comment.

His hips raise when your fingers press his member, massaging it.

"Yeah" he uses a tone that equals a duh. "You texted me yourself"

Pedro rolls his eyes, wishing desperately he would go away, annoying him just as much as a fly hovering above fresh food. Talking about food, fuck, weren't you hungry? He tried to warn you, holding your wrist, but all resolve was lost the moment you looked in his eyes: he immediately pulled down his briefs, dick sprouting hard.

"Well, changed my mind" his tone falters in between words, member now free from the confines of his tight underwear.

"Are you tired, man? You sound tired" Paul comments on his tone. "Came to rest?"

You spit on your hand, and he gulps.

"Somethin' like that"

You start to jerk him off, leaving little wet kisses and licks just above his dick. Pedro's eyes are hypnotized, glued to every lick of yours across his girth, the spit making your movements smoother. Sexier. Fuck.

"Well, sorry to break it to you but rest time is over. They want us back on set now"

Your tight needy lips are wrapped around his his length and it's so hard to keep the talk normal when he justs wants to yell at Paul to fuck off. Your hand is there too; you are as of help as much as you aren't.

"I'll be there, Paul, just―Fuck!"

But his attempt to cover a moan doesn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright in there?" he tries to enter, but Pedro locked the door. He's yelling he's fine, but Mescal doesn't sound convinced. "I can't go inside; it's locked. Are you sure you are okay, mate?"

"Didn't want you to take a picture of me drooling on my sleep" he manages to get out in a monotone voice. A real win if you take into account you've gotten to a point where you squeeze under his cock, massaging his balls.

"Smart move!" he chuckles from outside. "I guess I'll see you there"

Pedro covers a moan with his palm as he's throwing his head back in pleasure. He can feel his orgams looming over, minstrations growing sloppier around his pulsating cock, the need to fill your greedy evil mouth with his seed making him sick. He's a simple man: he just wants his pretty wife to fuck his cock silly and come in her mouth in peace. Is that so hard to get this days?

Paul seems to be finally gone as Pedro can't keep containing his grunts anymore, steps moving: until said steps sound closer again.

"Oh, I almost forgot, have you seen Y/n? I can't find her anywhere" it's coming. His orgasm is coming in the absolute worst moment. He can feel you gagging at his hard rock cock, hitting the back of your throat now. Still, your hands don't loose their grip on his cock and skirt, determination filling that sexy little body of yours. It was rather admirable the effort you were putting in this. "Think she went to the beach? She said she loved it. God, that little rebel. Anyway, if you see her, tell her-"

He leans his head back once again, seeing stars. No one knows him like his wife, truly.

The sight of you drooling from your chin, the wet sounds of him fucking himself onto your mouth as your spit-coated fingers pump his girth, you gulping down the precum from his tip, his fingers holding your face roughly by the cheeks...

"Yes, Paul, yes!" Pedro barks, barely hiding the moan that erupts from his ribcage, thick shots of his hot cum hitting your tongue and deep of the throath. "Fuck off and let me get ready"

"Jesus, mate, chill. I'm sorry. See you there"

And Paul Mescal's hovering fly ass is finally gone.

"Poor Paul" you say as soon as you pull off his length, voice raspy as you huff for air. Pedro lovingly cleans rests of your saliva and his cum from your chin as he chuckles at how much audacity, courage and horniness could fit in such a small young body. "You've ruined the friendship"

"You think?" he licks off some as you sit on his lap again, tongue directly on your face. You feel aroused again, but time's up. "It's your fault. That and this"

He points down.

"Just as you used that pretty head of yours to think of the trouble you just made, think of an excuse for Mr. Ridley about the skirt"

at0michips: wait wdym paul is sick??? ㅤㅤl-u-n-a-m: at0michips he's died vnightx: i'm wondering who'll do now the do you even know me interview with pedro now :( i was so excited!!! hope they don't cancel it :( ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: vnightx i bet my grandma it's y/n ㅤㅤat0michips: unhing3dprincess why do u keep betting ur grandma omg 😭😭😭

"You know what I think would be fun?" Pedro comments while you wait for the interview's set to be prepared.

Tour press has finally begun. That meant you could go home for a while after the filming wrapped, just to be back for the promotion of the film. You were excited of course, the experience new and thrilling. After much needed battery recharging and husband/wife time, you were ready to take over the world.

But then Paul got sick.

Today's interview was scheduled to be him and Pedro, but since he was unavailable, they paired him with you, since you both spoke Spanish (which felt slightly racist in your opinion), and because Fred and Joseph were already paired up for the other.

You leave your coffee, knowing he's about to say something stupid or endearing, perhaps both, brown liquid probably spilling out of your mouth. Or worst, nostrils.

"Tell me"

"What if we left little hints that we're together?" his smile is one of mischief. "Like you could wear my cap, or I could wear a chain with your initial around my neck, like Ryan Gosling did at the Barbie premiere"

"Or as Taylor Swift sang" you counter. "But Pedro, dear, you're underestimating our fans. You don't think they'll match it sooner than we think?"

"Maybe" he agrees. That's just what I want. "What's funny is we're about to do a type of interview where we could blow our cover"

"Maybe" you repeat, "or maybe you don't know all about me as much as you think, Mr. Pascal"

He fake gasps, feigning hurt. "Is this a dare, Mrs. Pascal?"

"No" you try to be mature for once, cutting the banter as much as you'd like to go on and kiss him right there. "Also, remember to answer incorrectly sometimes, you know..."

"There's no way I'm letting you win though"

"Pedro, no seas necio!"

The producers arrive just in time to let you know it's ready.

"After M'lady" he's back to being charming as he is, not as husband charming but just Pedro Pascal charming. The nerve of this guy to do it in front of the LADbible crew.

"Whatever" you grumble, the nerves getting the best of you as you realize this interview may or may not give away more than you've been allowed before.

"Hello, I am Y/n L/n" you present yourself. Wow, the camera is really close. This isn't going to end well.

"And I'm Pedro Pascal"

Hearing his voice soothes you. It's okay, y/n, you got this. "And this is Do You Really Know Me- No wait, it's do you even know me. Okay, let's start again: Hello, I'm Y/n and this is-"

"I don't even know anymore" Pedro jokes, making you laugh. "Do you even know me?" he asks while looking forward, now making the crew laugh.

"This is Pedro Pascal, that'll do" you sigh.

"This is gonna be sad, she's not going to know any of these" he says, but in reality, he's mocking you, the mischief in his eyes glowing as he only looks at you tauntingly.

"Same can be said about you" you tease, "we're like a million years away"

"That's not true!" he gasps, "I watch your every move" punctuating each word. God, you try not to make a face. "I have Google alerts on you"

If he was gonna play, so were you.

"Glad to know I have you alerted" with the sweetest voice ever, seeing how his friendly façade falters for a bit at the tone you've used. You laugh, and Pedro takes the chance to laugh it off too.

After the introduction, they ask one of you to keep score, and you offer yourself because, well, you don't trust Pedro.

"I'll go first" you say. "Which was my first ever role in the industry? As an extra during an episode of Stranger Things, as a voice actor in A dog's purpose" you can't help but laugh, "or as a back-up dancer in Hustlers?"

"In Hustlers?" Pedro inquires in disbelief. "You're telling me you were in Hustlers?! I didn't even know you could dance!"

Lies. You and Pedro sometimes put some bachata and dance in the kitchen. God bless Juan Luis Guerra.

"Jennifer Lopez and I are practically besties" you answer nonchalant.

You know the answer. He does too. But he chooses the last one for comedic purposes.

"I'll go with Hustlers. Now that I'm looking at you, you do have a... dancer face"

"It's okay, you can say the forbidden word. I'll take it as a compliment" you laugh, "you're wrong, though. The answer is Stranger Things"

"No way!" and it sounds as if he genuinely didn't know. Good lying son of a bitch; Jim Carrey on Liar, Liar would've been proud.

"Yes. If you look in the background of season two, on this one episode where Nancy and Steve appear to have broken up during a halloween party, you can see me drinking from a cup on a corner"

"That's so crazy"

"Yeah, I was twenty already, yet playing a highschooler" you giggle. "Wow, time flies by. Anyway, we're both at zero. Your turn"

"What film did my dad not let me see at the cinema when I was, uh, ten years old?" Pedro reads from his card. "Rambo: first blood, The Breakfast Club, Day of The Dead"

"I'm going to base this in the year you were born. Okay, so 1975. Let's see" one of the things Pedro loves about you is that you're like a film encyclopedia, but right now, that'll cost him a point. "They all came out the same year, and they were also R rated. Hmmh, I'll choose The Breakfast Club"

Your analysis was just mindless bragging really. You knew the answer the moment he started reading the question, because the anecdote came during a time he heard you listening to the movie's soundtrack ("Did you know that my dad...")

"You complain about Paul all the time, but you're just the same" he comments. "She's a real competitor, people!"

You flush in embarrasment. "Okay, that's one for me. Next question" you read the card in your hands. "What pet do I own? An orange cat named Louis after my favorite singer, a fish, or a Shih Tzu named after my brother"

The orange cat lives with you both. You're curious as to how he'll answer.

"You aren't naming a Shih Tzu frickin' Fernando" he laughs, so loud, it ends up catching up to you and the crew. "I'll go with the cat"

"That's correct" you lament. "How would you know?"

As if the damn cat doesn't love him more than he loves you.

"I follow you on Instagram" he defends himself. Clever. "We are, um, what do you call it-"

"Oomfs"

"I'm not gonna try to pronounce your made up language. Okay, my turn. Which of these characters I've played in Saturday Night Live? Naughty daddy, protective mom, or weird uncle who has a creepy sneeze" he reads out loud in a confused tone.

This is easy. It was all over your timeline.

"Protective mom" you answer on a beat.

"This isn't fair, that was really popular!" he complains.

"It's still two for me and one for you" you mock. "Now, what is the nickname the internet has given me? I won't give you clues because it's an easy one"

"Easy? You said we were million of years apart and now I'm supposed to know?"

"Well, you seem to manage Instagram so I think you'll be just fine" you tease, and Pedro just wants to rip that smirk off of you. So he caves in first.

"It's people's princess"

"What?!" your eyes grow comically large, shimmering with betrayal as you shout with an incredulous tone. "I can't believe you know" more like can't believe you said it.

"You're royalty! How am I supposed to not know that, internet darling? Besides, told you: I keep my eye on you" and he winks.

This motherfucker. Oh, he's totally sleeping on the couch tonight.

"Talk about internet darlings" your snarky tone comes out, and Pedro knows he's pissed his competitive wife off. "I guess we have a tie. Your turn"

"What are the initials of my full name?" his brows furrow. "I forget. JBPP, JPBP, JBPP"

"José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite. "B, of course"

"But that's too easy, everyone with Google knows it!" but then he's leaning into your ear, whispering in a very low voice to make sure only you hear. "I'll let it pass, though. Love hearing you pronounce my name, mami"

Your face grows obscenely red. "I'm back ahead. Let's see if you can keep up. Okay, here it goes" you read the card, "what is the director I've stated I want to work with? Greta Gerwig, Pedro Almodóvar, or Quentin Tarantino"

"Pedro Almodóvar, no? You said you were jealous I had already worked with him" he playfully nudges you. Too much contact, face hot again. Maybe in group interviews you'll do better, because right now, you're doing a rather poor job at controlling yourself, even as an actor; you can already picture your agent pulling her hair behind the cameras.

"It's Greta Gerwig, actually"

"What?! No way, you told me this!" he grumbles. "This game is rigged"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm still jealous. I just think working with Greta Gerwig is peak womanhood, and I gotta live that. So, Greta, if for some reason this silly video gets to you, call me. I promise I'm not that childish"

"She is" Pedro slips in, "don't call her. So unprofessional" in a mocking exaggerated tone.

"Whatever, you sore looser. Me three, you two. Next!"

"Fine. Which of these songs would I have played at my funeral? My Heart Will Go On, Purple Rain, Nothing Compares To You"

He looks at you, silently pleading you to not answer correctly. Your competitive side screams in agony.

"I have no idea. Why do I feel you've already said it somewhere, though? I'll go with Nothing Compares To You, because the first its too corny for you and the second too epic"

He scoffs, amused at the fact that you did obey, but at what cost? Pedro's well aware his princess can get as competitive, if not worse, than Paul.

"You're saying I'm not epic enough for Purple Rain? Too bad, because that's the answer" you grunt, crossing your arms. "That's right, I am cool enough to have it played. I guess we're tied again!"

"No, you don't loose a point. It's still three to two. This just gives you the opportunity to tie"

"W-wait a minute"

"Settle down" you pat his thigh, "you can still try, handsome"

He gulps when your hand meets his skin, despite the layer of clothes. It's still something that gets him on edge, no matter the years you've known each other. And handsome? You came here for blood.

"Okay, here's your chance: what image of me became trending topic on twitter? An image of me eating a typical dish from my country, an image of me watching Deadpool and Wolverine with glasses while Hugh Jackman's shirtless scene reflects on them or C, me meeting Taylor Swift at the backstage of the Eras Tour"

"The typical dish is tempting" he muses out loud, "but I'll go with the Taylor Swift one because that sounds like something that'd trend"

"You're right" you throw your card. "I'm not complaining though. Best day of my life"

"Does this mean I'm winning?" he beams excitedly. "Oh, in your face Paul! I will finally win something!"

"Slow down, cowboy. There's still some left"

He purses his lips. "Let me have this one thing, would you? Guess not. Here it comes" he starts to read his card, "At school I competed in state competitions, in which sport? Soccer, lacrosse, swimming"

"Swimming" you answer hastily, trying not to think on Pedro wearing tight little swimsuits, as you've only seen him wearing swim trunks.

"Okay, that's dissapointing. Please continue"

"I participated in which play while I was in highschool? Hamlet, The Iliad or Much Ado About Nothing"

You doubt he remembers. The only time it ever came up, was when you visited your parent's house and a photography of you during said play was showed to him by your dad.

"The Iliad, right?" you laugh. The answer is wrong: It's Hamlet. "What? I swear it was that one! It's just you have very..." beautiful is at the tip of his tongue but he refrains himself, "...very greek features"

You can't help but laugh.

"Why of course! This is a face people go to war for"

"I agree" your heart skips a beat, "but I don't think I'll make it that far, if we talk about a war"

"You big fat liar!" you slap his arm playfully. "You've played all sort of characters, from soldiers of all nationalities and places, and like, superheroes, f*****g Joel Miller, even a DEA agent. You at least learned something!"

"Wow, slow down, this isn't a filmography recount" he jokes. Liar, you mouth to the cameras. "Okay, last one: I became a viral sensation for eating what type of sandwhich in LADbible's snack wars: BLT, PB&J, grilled cheese"

You remember the video fondly. Even your brother had sent it to you, along a text that said: Isn´t this your husband?

"PB&J, I win!" you cheer, instantly getting off the chair to do a celebratory dance. Pedro doesn't say anything, just throwing the cards away while the fondness of his eyes betrays him.

pyramiidsf: i want someone to look at me the way pedro looks at y/n mybritishstyle: guys they're just friends 😭 he's like that with all his female co-stars ㅤㅤann-gell: mybritishstyle me when i'm delusional af mandoshoney: where's that girl that's always betting her grandma??? SHE WAS RIGHTFLKRGJ

"Hello, I'm Paul Mescal. I'm here with my friends from the cast of Gladiator II" Connie and you both raise your palms to greet the camera, laughing when you realized you'd done it at the same time, "and we are going to play a game about how well we know each other for Vanity Fair" the irish man introduces the interview you're filming today.

"Did they prompt you?" Pedro speaks up, "or did you just make that up on the fly?"

You laugh a bit too loud, hoping they cut it off in the editing process.

Paul goes first, taking up a card with the first question written on it.

"Okay. Question: What's my least favorite day of the week?"

"Tuesday" answers Joseph once Paul is done reading. "Oh, you're writing it down?"

"Yeah" he answers.

"You just wrote Tuesday" Connie points out, Paul's card on his legs. You laugh along the rest.

"Yeah" he repeats laughing. "I actually, when you said Tuesday" Yeah, he said Tuesday Pedro adds on the background of laughter. "I was like...I'm gonna give everybody a point for that"

"I think I deserve a point for being observant" Connie complains.

Everyone gets a point and Paul moves towards the next question.

"What was the name of my character in Normal People?"

"Connell" both you and Joseph answer, looking at each other before squinting your eyes playfully.

"Callum" Pedro answers out loud at the same time, and you laugh. He clearly had slept when you played it for a re-watch last summer.

"No, you're out" Paul pokes Pedro next to him.

"Connel" Joseph repeats, and Fred agrees to the same answer.

Paul then asks Connie what's hers after he confirms you three.

"Connor?" she asks, confused.

"Incorrect. Three points" while pointing you three.

"You got wrong" he tells Pedro, "Callum's a different character"

"See? You just don't pay attention when you watch things" you blurt out, stopping yourself before adding the with me. It would be harder to come back from that, but so is this as everyone looks at you, even your husband, subtle panic in his eyes. Where the cameras this close? How long had you been silent?

"It's just, quick funny story" you improvise. "Pedro didn't know much about Paul's career, and as I am a fan, I took the time to show him and recommend him your stuff" Paul smiles. "Clearly, my fanatism didn't rub on Pedro but a girl can try"

He laughs, before saying "So the answer is Connell" and you try so hard to remain normal like the energy hasn't shifted.

"He only plays characters with the letter C in the name" Pedro jokes, chewing on a toothstick he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. More laughs follow, and you are so grateful for how he's handling your little metida de patada.

"What's number one on my bucket list?" he asks next, "and don't look at my answer"

The marker is the only sound to be heard, and then Pedro jokingly tries to take a peek.

"No peeking" Connie berates as Pedro laughs.

"You're not gonna be able to see that" Paul replies in an anyways tone.

You repeat the same joke, before Fred blocks you. "Not you too!"

Paul finishes after a while, Connie commenting it was long. Joseph raises his hand.

"Yes, Joseph"

"Is it to see the Great Wall of China?" he asks.

"No, but it's in that-"

"It's close, isn't it?" you interrupt.

"...family of thought" he finishes.

"It's to go and see something" Pedro points out.

"Okay. Rajasthan" tries Connie. "Go to Rajasthan, for a tour"

"Travel to South America" Paul interrupts with the correct answer, "I've never been to South America"

"I'm from South America" Pedro comments, never missing a chance to shout out his dear Chile.

Paul jokes about him getting three points while the rest of you laugh.

"I was born in South America. 17 points for Pedro"

"I want points too" you jump on the joke. "I know Spanish, so I can take you there and avoid you getting lost, mi querido amigo"

"But who was born there?" Pedro counters, "you get no points"

"I think Joseph is the only person who gets a point there" Paul adds, "because everybody just jumped on the bandwagon"

"He said to visit the Great Wall of China" Pedro protests, "which is nowhere near South America"

"It really is not" Connie agrees.

"Qué gente tan tramposa" you complain. "That's unfair. I remove my offer"

"Think about bucket list, and he came up with travel to bit" he tries to reason Joseph's point.

"And by the way, where in South America?" Pedro questions.

"Don't fight, don't fight" pleads Joseph, the calm one. Fred just sits there, enjoying the chaos.

"I want, any, I want to do a big tour of everywhere" Mescal defends himself.

Pedro doesn't back down. "'Cause it's very different"

Paul starts to get angry too. Jesus, men. Competitive men of it all.

"I know it's very different" making an annoyed face.

"Well, different is nice" you intervene, a hand placing in Pedro's left shoulder. "If you stop giving points for free, I'll come with you to the big everywhere tour"

"Alright" Paul agrees. "When's my birthday?" is the next question.

"February" all of you say.

Joseph struggles with the date first, saying seventh, then fourth. Fred tries with ninth, Pedro with eight, and then Joseph starts counting from one to two. Fred counts from eleven to twelve.

"Second" Mescal reveals. "Point to Joseph"

"Oh my God, you guys are good" Connie mentions.

"That's all my questions" and it's time to move on the next one: which happens to be your dear husband, Pedro.

"Paul is like" he brings up while the toothpick dances on his teeth, "Paul is motivated to catch up on points. He's coming for you" to pick on his competitive side as Mescal looks deep in thought.

"He's coming. He's coming" Joseph repeats as Fred laughs.

"What is my full name?"

"Oh! Pedro-" Paul tries in a blink. "Something, J? Jose? Juan?"

"Pedro Pascal, something, something" says Joseph.

"Nope"

"No?"

"Pedro Maria, Jose Maria Pascal" Paul struggles.

Pedro is about to answer when your voice cuts through the air.

"It's José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" you recite.

"It indeed is!" he says, smiling a bit too much. "She gets a point"

"Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal" your husband repeats in a more english-friendly pronunciation, looking at the camera while toying with his toothpick.

"I said Jose, I said Jose" Paul protests.

Pedro shakes his head. "You said Jose, but then you put it-"

Connie takes Paul's side. "You did say Jose"

"But then you put it behind Pedro which eliminate- which disqualified you" he replies.

Paul gets angry. That sore looser.

"That's absolute bullshit"

"Don't worry mate, the game has just begun" you joke, making the man more irritated. "Think you can get ahead of me?"

"Joseph is still ahead, y/n" Paul counters, still irritated. "Besides, wouldn't it be cheating? You can speak Spanish!"

"So? Not like speaking a language allows you to know every person's name Paul" you mock. He just snorts, despite still being half angry. Pedro is allowed to continue, trying not to make a face at yours and Paul's banter.

"The question is, who is my favorite actor?" he reads. As the cast members laugh, he uncaps the marker with his mouth, and now you have to try not to make a face, thinking about those teeth sinking into your flesh.

Quinn raises his hand. "It's me"

"That you're my favorite actor?"

"Yeah. You said that to me once" the bald man sounds sure of it.

Paul tries to think in the background. So do you. How can you not know this? he must've brought it up at least once.

"Do you remember?" Joseph insists.

Pedro finally remembers. "I said you were- I said I thought you were special"

"Oh" he sounds rather dissapointed.

"And special can mean a lot of things" he jokes, laughing by himself. Fred laughs with you as Joseph makes a face, your laughter turning even louder when you notice Paul all moody, trying to get this point.

"Who's your favorite actor?" Paul asks, "I think we just have to shoot from the hip here guys"

"Marlon Brando?" Connie guesses.

"Is it Harrison Ford?" Fred guesses.

"Let's go with Harrison Ford just because he's my favorite actor..."

You can't believe you didn't know this. You've re-watched and watched so many Star Wars content together. He gives you a brief look, knowing you're embarrased at your lack of answer.

"As a kid?"

"He's most influent, yeah" Pedro agrees.

"What job did I have before I became a full-time actor?" is next.

"Dancer. You were a great dancer" Paul aswers. Both Fred and Joseph repeat it, adding he was specifically a go-go dancer.

"Oh, he is" you add. "Videos of you dancing are lovely. Ever thought of getting back in the bussiness?"

He laughs, what appears to be a light blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Sure, darling. When you ask me to dance, I'll be there"

Nobody comments on this, too busy waiting for Pedro to say yes or no to the answer they believe to be right. But he isn't saying it is. Now you remember why.

"Come on, come on, come on" Paul begs.

"Can any of you guys remember?" Pedro pleads.

They insist that he danced in Spain, then New York, then settle with Spain again, even Pedro confirming so. But it still isn't the answer written on the card, no matter how much the boys insist.

"Connie?" he tries. She just looks confused.

"The answer in the card is-"

"Waiter" you answer. "You were a waiter"

Now you have three points under your belt.

"Why do you always say the answer at last?!" Paul grumbles. "You are cheating!"

"I'm not" you laugh the accusation off. "You just can't accept I'm better"

"Si que lo eres" Pedro agrees. "Es divertido hacer que se enoje Paul"

"What did you say about me? It's not fair, you're probably sharing the answers!" he's still adamant on insisting with the supposed cheating issue, making you laugh.

Now it's Connie's turn, who starts with: "How many languages do I speak?"

You put a puzzled look.

"You speak seven, eight maybe" Joseph guesses. Pauls says she speaks french, "but most likely seven"

Pedro points his finger at him. "Once he gets going, he's on a roll"

"Joe's got it" Connie agrees.

"Paul, end this reign" Pedro jokes. He looks rather frustrated.

"And the bonus points" Connie offers. "Okay, bonus, what are they?"

"This is an emperor's reign" your husband adds.

Joseph answers: Italian. Danish. English. Swedish. French. Spanish. Norwegian.

Connie agrees she speaks Spanish, making you jump in excitement.

"Oh, I didn't know that!" you beam. "Wait, does that mean you did get what Pedro and I gossiped about you?"

"What?" Joseph asks.

"Nada" you quickly correct yourself. "Yo no dije nada"

"Not that much. I just speak a bit of Spanish. I mostly dominate my own language, German and English"

"You blew our cover!" Pedro nags, hitting your bare leg, yet its devoid of anger.

"He needs a bonus" comments Connie, surprised at Joseph.

"This is horrifying" Pedro says when Joseph gets another point and a fricking bonus on top of that. "This is a slaughter"

"Oh, for which film did I have a gym built in my garage?"

Both Joseph and Paul answer the question correctly, saying Wonder Woman. The latter is quick to state they both get that point.

"That's one for me" Paul says, then looks at you. "And none for you"

You stick out your tongue at him as Connie reads the next card.

"If I were to take this cast on a vacation where would I take you?"

"Ibiza" answers Joseph. Connie agrees in Spanish, with a cute and excited correcto.

Your husband feels the need to crack a joke at Quinn's expense.

"Somebody was paying attention to Connie Nielsen very closely during the shooting of this movie"

"Okay. What is my favorite curse word in Danish?"

"Fuck" Pedro tries.

"No"

"Nobody is going to get that, Connie" Paul bickers.

"Oh, I don't know any Danish" you lament.

"At least now you know how it feels" Mescal drops, making you snort. You playfully kick him on the ribs with your shoe.

"It's very simple" Connie gives as a clue. "It's the same word in every language"

"Shit" Paul tries.

"Satan" she reveals.

Everybody is laughing in confusion at that, saying there's no way you could use that.

"Vos Satan!" Connie curses.

Now it's Fred's turn.

"What is my weirdest on-set habit?"

"I haven't noticed you do anything weird on set" Paul tells.

"I have" Pedro interrupts.

They all get on a small briefing about what could it possibly be, that it was weird, and wasn't part of his character, as you ponder. It was funny before, but now Paul is behind you by a point. So think fast.

"Yeah. I would say being yourself" Pedro jokes, but surprisingly, it works.

"Me! Five points for Pedro" he celebrates as you all laugh. "Love Fred. Oh, Fred"

"Oh, oh, okay" he moves to the next question. "What is my favorite reality TV show?"

Joseph tries with Survivor and Paul with Alone. Truth is, you don't watch any show of said kind, only vagely hearing about Love Island.

"You and I have talked about reality TV" Pedro reveals, "It's just that we never identified one"

They keep guessing shows that sound like a foreign language to you.

"You know what's offensive? That I'm the second youngest of this cast and I have no idea what are you all talking about"

"She's not to be trusted" Pascal quips, "can't trust someone who doesn't appreciate the art of reality TV"

You huff, annoyed.

"Is it A&E stuff?" Pedro asks.

"Yeah, it's the competitive cheapskates" Fred answers. "It's people that really save money on everything"

Pedro gets the point because he mentioned the A&E bit.

"There's like this amazing guy that made a stew out of fish bones, and I just thought it was incredible" he shares. Then, moves to the next question. "What is my go-to crafty snack?"

Nobody remembers eating snacks on set, and Fred gives the clue that it's a drink. Joseph says it's a smoothie, and he does remember it but it isn't the answser.

"I'm thinking of something specific. That Emerge-C that you put in the water"

"Oh, that's very good" you agree, so does the rest, even discussing the best colors

"Who in the cast would I ask to bail me out of jail?"

Everyone even Pedro agree its him. Everyone gets a point, yet Joseph remains ahead.

It's Joseph's turn. "What is my favorite sport?"

"Skateboarding" Paul is so quick to answer, earning him two points for both being correct and time.

"What celebrity do I get mistaken for?"

"Daisy Edgar-Jones sometimes" says Mescal. Of course he had to bring her up.

"No, she gets mistaken for me" Joseph jokes. "Yeah, poor Daisy. But I'm writing it down"

"That was the two letters?" Pedro notices. Still, no one gets it.

It's fucking Justin Timberlake. You'd never guess that.

"What is my favorite film franchise?"

You've probaly named all the existing franchises to no avail. You think fo your dad, a huge geek, trying to remember if there is one missing.

"Oh- Lord of the Rings!" you both answer with Paul at the same time.

"C'mon!" his celebration is short lived when he realizes you tied to him.

"What is my favorite British slang word?"

Pedro says it can't be said, but Quinn insists they can, even adding it's his favorite one too.

"We can say bad words? We can say-?" but the camera beeps over it.

The answer is Bellend. What even is that? Joseph feigns sadness and Pedro keeps apologizing, even as you sit on the chair.

"Okay. I'm last"you wiggle your eyebrows with interest. "Let's see. Okay, first question: what did I take from the Gladiator II set?"

"You took something?" Joseph asks on disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I take something?"

"Is it like an item or memorabilia?" asks Connie.

"It's an item" you uncap the marker, scribbling down the answer.

"It's a short word" Fred points out, but still can't provide a guess.

"You took the rings home" Pedro answers. You snap your had on his way, probably obvious. "What? You told me" he says.

Of course Paul complains. "Hey, that isn't fair! He knew the answer before!"

"Well, if you payed more attention to me, you'd know it"

Lies. Pedro knows because it's sitting in the jewelry box inside your house.

"See? I do pay attention" Pedro playfully hits Mescal.

"I could pay you more attention" he looks at you.

"Alright, then do. Ready? Next question: what is my go-to movie? Oh, this is a good one. I'm always changing it, but most of the time I end up choosing the same one"

They all give you a puzzled look as you scribble.

"C'mon, guys! I've said it on interviews before too. Paul?" the man shrugs. "Thought you said you'd pay me more attention. Heads up, you're doing a terrible job so far!"

"Hey!" he protests. "It's not fair if the answer's changing. Give us a clue"

"You didn't give any clues to yours!" you giggle. "Besides, I don't want you to win"

"Hey, that's against the rules!"

"I'd say it depends on the season" Pedro speaks up. You quirk an eyebrow. "Like, if it's changing, I don't think your Christmas go-to movie is the same as your summer one"

"Actually" you smile fondly, "that is true. On summer, it's Mamma Mia. So I suppose, if you can't guess the one, that'll do"

"No" he smiles, cheeky. "I know it too"

"Yeah?" you challenge, "what is it, then?"

"It's Thelma and Louise" he answers, and your heart beats fast.

"How do you know?" Paul inquires. "Somebody was paying attention to Y/n L/n very closely during the shooting of this movie"

Ah, his joke from earlier. Joseph giggles behind him. Karma, he supposes.

"She said it on an interview, guys. C'mon, learn your sources!"

"Okay" you clear your throat. "What movie got me into acting?"

"Thelma and Louise" Joseph tries.

"No" you laugh, "you're just recycling the answer"

"Is it an old or modern movie?" Connie asks.

"Hmh, old" you pause, "just not... I don't know if you'll ever guess it"

"Is it a Pedro Almodóvar film?" you shake your head. "What? You're always mentioning him!"

Pedro looks into your eyes amid the others' discussion, and you can tell he remembers the conversation.

"There isn't one"

You smile, chest pounding at his soft tone.

"That's correct"

"A trick question?!" Paul yells. "I quit"

"When there's just one left?" you tease.

"Yes, because you've been hiding it all the time but no more" he counters, pointing both you and Pedro. You feel the space getting smaller, breaths going from even to noticeable. "You are sharing answers"

You try to make your breath of relief pass as a chuckle.

"I'm not even gonna win, relax. And drop the charges, please. Loose like a man"

"You didn't explain it though" Connie speaks. "What did Pedro mean?"

"While I have many movies that are inspiration to me, they aren't the reason I chose this path. I did it because I saw an Oscar's ceremony when I was 11" you explain fondly, feeling warm at the memories. "I still remember when they handed the award to Diablo Cody for best original screenplay. I don't know, man, it moved me. What it meant for young artists who came from nothing. I guess I wanted, one day, to be the one standing there, for other dreamers to see it's possible"

"Wow, that's beautiful" Connie says.

"Thank you" you get flustered. "Suppose it was worth it, you know, to do interviews about not really knowing my cast mates" and laugh.

"How does Pedro know, though?" Joseph asks.

"We talk a lot" you clear your throat. "Last one: what indie horror movie did I make a small appearence in? I'm feeling generous because it's the last so I'll give you a clue. It's a Stephen King adaptation"

Paul is the first to speak. "You where in a-"

"Yeah but it wasn't such a huge role. Don't make yourself any ideas"

"I have no idea" Connie surrenders. "Other clue, as in how many words?"

"It doesn't even have any words" you laugh. "You give up? It's 1922. Was an extra as well. Made me think Netflix had my name highlighted in the extra call sheet, because I did so many minor and background roles during that year. Grateful, though, because now I get to be Rome's empress and not fortune teller or highschool #6"

The interview ends, and the camera may or may have not captured the last seconds, Pedro's gaze fixated with you the entire time.

elysyannemimi: we all saw that right? GET PEDRO AND Y/N IN A ROMCOM ❗THEIR CHEMISTRY IS INSANE❗ at0michips: love paul and y/n so much 😭😭 gimme enemies to lovers RN ㅤㅤbobgirllll: at0michips wait what if paul and y/n are secretly dating 😳 ㅤㅤann-gell: bobgirllll quick question are u dumb unhing3dprincess: i bet my grandma they're married. it has to be. trust me ㅤㅤstarlightt180: unhing3dprincess BESTIE U ARE BACK

You arrived in London today. The premiere will be in a few days, and things have been, well, hectic.

Lux couldn't stop talking all the plane ride, but your mind kept going back at the email your manager had sent you before you had boarded the plane.

It's catching upon you, read the haunting message. Attached below, a TMZ article that claimed a regular church attendee had seen you both getting married. It also used a lot of the noise fans had been making on social media, connecting dots or just hyping up the undeniable chemistry. It ended with a little paragraph saying it was obvios, and they're just hoping you'd confirmed it.

You came to realize you didn't care about it anymore. Sure, the pushing around annoyed you, but the thought of still keeping your marriage under wraps feels pointless now. Why wouldn't you shout to the world how in love with your husband you are?

Yet, when you arrive at the hotel, you keep the same protocol of arriving after Pedro, who has already checked in with two keys, claiming its for him and his sister, while you ask for the key to Lux's actual room. After you swipe cards with her, you head over the room you'd be sharing with your husband.

His face appears in your frame, everything happening quickly.

"Get inside. Now"

Your body is dragged inside the hotel room, not even giving you time to swipe the key for yourself.

"Pedro!" you exclaim, between surprised and confused. "What the hell is your problem?"

"Did you read it?"

"What? The article?" your tone is filled with annoyance. "Yes, I did. Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he snaps, voice raising higher. "Don't play dumb with me. You know fans have fuelled the rumors, and tabloids have started digging every corner in fucking California"

"So, what? You're acting as if people finding out is the worst thing in the world" you roll your eyes.

"It is, yes!" Pedro bursts out, caving in to the stress.

It feels like you've been hit across your face.

"Excuse me?" you seethe, hurt etched all across your features. "Would it be the worst thing in the world to admit you're married to the person you supposedly love the most?"

"I love you, y/n. It's just-"

His voice softens, trying to reach for you, yet you pull back, his hand falling to his side in an akward manner. He sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"I love you" he repeats, sounding much more sure this time.

Your frame seems smaller as your voice comes out hoarse, filled with emotion, appearing to be in the brink of tears:

"Then why do you act like you're embarrassed of me?"

He hates himself for making you feel this way, making you think things that aren't true.

"I don't. Never" he emphasizes. Then, tries to reach once again when you move a little bit closer to him, recognizing that's your way of letting him know you're ready. "You're the most precious thing in the world to me, don't ever think the opposite" then he sighs, heavy. "I'm just scared"

You silently ask him to explain, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his tattoo.

"You're so young, and I'm, well- I know we're aware of it, but people are cruel and the press is ruthless. I don't want to see your name dragged across the mud because you decided to marry me. Your career is starting, and I'd never forgive myself is something happened to you because of me. Not trying to make this about me, yeah? But this industry is fucked up. You've work hard to get to where you are, and it'll be unfair if you'd loose it. I'm scared because us..." he wavers, words trailing off. "I want us to be. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you, i-it would kill me not to have you be my wife"

You desperately want to kiss off the worry on his face, but let him finish.

"N-not saying our love is weak, or anything! That a couple of opinions or tabloids will- you know? Just, I-I don't want them to break us apart. Mi vida, you're the light of my life. Please, forgive me, I-"

He feels his throat closing up, words failing to come out. You sense the grip on your hand to be stronger, immediately letting loose of it.

"Hey. C'mere" your voice is tender, allowing him to bury his face in your stomach as you comb his messy curls with your fingers. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

He lets himself melt under your touch, his mind loosing itself in the soft of your digits and your perfume up his nostrils. He's again breathing normaly, hands now hugging your waist.

"There you go. Better?" Pedro nods, still not being able to talk. "That's okay, take all the time you need. We have all day"

"Do we?" he raises his view, his eyes soft yet there is something else to the brown shade.

You hum as to nod. "We agreed to join Lux for dinner. It's barely 1pm"

"Tell me you're thinking it too" his voice cuts throughout the air, boucing off the tapestry on the walls.

You laugh, nervously. "I don't think I do"

"Hmmh, I see" he stands up, towering over you. "You sure you don't?"

"You sure you want this?"

Before you know it, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, cutting off all words to be said. What a waste of air, anyway. You are quick to reciprocate, whimpering against his lips.

Pedro picks you up like you're as light as a feather, his arms flexing as he carries you and places you on the bed, frame hovering over yours. He breaks the kiss to breath, but you're pulling him back in, his hold on your hips tighter and the wet spot in your panties wetter.

"Look at you, pretty baby. So needy" he whispers against your face, hot breath lingering above your lips. "And mine. Mía. Only mine"

"I am, yes. Yours only. Need you so bad right now, papi" you answer in a rush. "Now shut up and fuck me"

"Con gusto" he chuckles darkly, "gotta keep the wife happy"

"Happy wife, happy life" you recite, stripping him off of his plain shirt, revealing his toned torso, bulging biceps defined by the movements. You gulp. "Fuck, papi. Gotta thank Marvel for this. I love all of your versions, but I can work with this too" you dreamily stare at him, your hands cupping his face.

He strips the rest of his clothing, but a cute blush adorns his cheeks.

"Yeah, well, it's Scott's fault too"

Your impatient fingers reach the middle of your panties to rub your clothed pussy, letting out a sound that darkens his hazel orbs.

"Fuck that guy" you mutter. Pedro laughs.

"Thought you said you loved the guy"

"Until I learned what he said about your body" you groan, still rubbing. "Connie told me"

His hands now travel to remove your clothes, almost ripping them off.

"Who cares? I just want to fuck you now" he breathes out, practically drooling at the sight of your damp panties. "Lemme take this off too"

He unhooks your bra, seeing the hard nipples. The urge to lick them is so bad, but his desire to fill you silly to the brim is stronger.

You see his hesitation, which is why you grab him by the neck to pull him in for a kiss. He kisses back fiercely, labored breaths as he struggles to focus on your lips, his wet mouth darting to your jaw, neck and collarbones. His hands roam all over your body, needy.

"Gotta be inside of you, mami. Can't wait any longer"

"Then stop waiting" you plead, tugging at his boxers with urgency.

Seeing you so cockhungry, lips parted and pupils blown wide makes his hard dick twitch with anticipation.

He mutters a labored fuck, aligning himself to enter your sticky folds. Pedro enters your tight pussy with a low groan, burying himself deep inside of you, used to his length by now. You're basically begging for it, nails digging and eyes supplicating.

He can't deny you anything, can he?

A messy whine leaves your widened mouth as you adjust, pleasure mixed with pain.

"Mhmm" you moan.

"Mhmm what?" he mocks. "You asked for it. Now take it, cariño"

He thrusts deeper into you, watching in awe how his dick enters your pussy; it was always perfectly, your pussy made for him.

"You're drippin' baby" his rough voice caresses your cheek. He kisses the are, giving a lick to the sweat starting to form. "S'fucking tight too"

You move your hips towards him, trying to augment the friction. The overstimulation starts to cloud your sense, reducing you to a whiny mess as you grip his steady arms.

"I can't think of anything but you, baby" he confesses between grunts, "filling up your pussy to the brim, you dripping with my seed for days"

You moan at the filthy words.

"Love how you take my dick, amor" stretching you as Pedro moves in and out. "S'made for me"

"Yes" you moan, skin slapping sounds bouncing off the walls. "Fuck, I love your dick..."

His pace picks up, and it comes to a point where he's just fucking you silly, his grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise as you keep spilling obscene sounds of pleasure from your lips.

"Your pussy's mine, yeah? No one else gets to have you like this"

"N-no, just you, Pedro. My h-husband" you manage to squeeze, more moans vocalizing the pleasure you felt with each thrust, his big dick inside of you moving in a a steady rhythm, making your eyes roll back further and orgasm closer.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, and he finds impossible to resist the urge anymore, licking the sensible skin and hard nipples, your hands moving to his back, scratching him harshly, both chasing your release.

"Please!" you whine out loud, not caring how desperate you sound.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

But your husband knows you, so he indeed starts to fuck you harder, heavy breaths and slippy kiss noises hanging in the spaces between each thrusts. He pants with every motion of his dick, a knot forming on his belly.

"Shit, baby. I think I'm gonna cum. Gonna come so hard"

"Do it. I'm on birth control, remember?" you groan, feeling your high approach as well. "Fill me up, please. Give me all your cum"

Your bodies move as one, precise thrusts hitting exactly that sweet spot of yours repeatedly, chasing your orgasm. For a brief moment, your eyes lock with his and then he's saying:

"I love you, y/n. So much"

Your heart skips a bit, his dick twitching inside as his gaze glimmers with adoration and possesiveness, teeth grazing your skin with marks for him to call you his.

"I love you too, Pedro. More than you know"

A final thrust is delivered. Fuck, feels so good you think you hear him say. Just like promised, he fills you with his release, shots of his thick, warm cum inside your sticky walls. You follow soon, back arching, toes curling, and both head and eyes rolling back. Pedro falls on top of you, his broad body collapsing over yours, as you both pant hard, trying to steady your pulse and breath. He then removes himself and positions you to be the one on top now, lazily throwing the covers over your bare bodies. We need to shower, you said, but he argued you'd do it later before going out.

"I needed that" and you happily hum in agreement at your husband's dragged out words.

Your head falls and rises, with the movement of his chest, silence settling on the previously filled with sex noises room. That until he speaks up:

"One day, I'm gonna fill you up so good until you have my babies, mami" he murmurs, just then realizing what he said. But you snuggle closer, hand and legs drapped over his bare body. You look at him closely, seeing nothing but certainty on his eyes.

I choose you. I'll always choose you.

"Whatever it is with you" your nose brushes his, a small sweet kiss on his lips, "I want"

His eyes shine, probably with tears or the glow of affection.

"Let's do it"

"What?" you look into his eyes for any sign of doubt, bull all you see is love. "Pedro, are you serious?"

He nods. "Wouldn't you want that?"

You feel the corner of your lips pull up.

"Never have I wanted anything more"

poppysplayground: Y/N AND PEDRO RED CARPET DEBUT AT THE LONDON PREMIER OF GLADIATOR II WTF I JUST WOKE UP ptwt is in SHAMBLES mostannoyingbillioner: UM HELLO pedro showing up with two hot women on his arms LUX GIMME A CHANCE pompeiianbollockr: WAIT WDYM THEY ARE MARRIED?!??! ALL THIS TIME?@?#? HOW???! NEED BIGGER CAPS TO SCREAM I'M GOING INSANE at0michips: that article better come out now or i'll burn the TMZ building ann-gell: not me thirsting for a married man 😭😭😭 how they kept this a secret for so long?? we should've noticed ㅤㅤunhing3dprincess: ann-gell i did. knew betting my grandma was the way all along ㅤㅤpyramiidsf: i'm gonna start betting my grandma too

[catiuskaa]

new task: valentine’s day (ACTS)

A/N: reposting by acts! [see full version here]. wanted to see if this format works better (and yes i will squeeze everything in this one right here cause its amazing and i 100% worked my ass off on it)

PAIRING! seungmin x reader ; enemies/rivals2lovers!

SUMMARY: boring classes, boring classmates, boring assignments…to seungmin, everyone is boring even if he’s used to pretend otherwise, but you seem to get on his nerves. you, your stupid poem, and his stupid letter.

WC: 3.150k

CW: fluffy comfort, use of spanglish (not relevant to the plot, dw), use of text format, the reader is stupidly short (which i know all about), academic rivals, bad student reader x good student seungmin, mentions of the unability to deal with complicated feelings, mentions of masking feelings, slight hint of bullying, mentions of being followed, (pet)names: little one, shortie, shortcake, smallable, pretty, hyunjin as a walking therapist, and the ending is kind of a reference to a show i'm obsessed with (not gonna say it so i don't spoil it for you guys hehehe)

|PROLOGUE| |ACT 1| |ACT 2| |ACT 3|

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 1: NOT A LOVEFOOL… YET}

To be in the same class group than him was slightly tolerable.

Is what you’d like to say if you were in a good mood. But it wasn’t the case.

You were mad. As fuck.

“I just need you to give it a chance,” Miss Fernández stated once more, and you had to hold back to not roll your eyes at her.

“But Miss. I know that this subject is difficult and that he could, uh, help me out with the project,” you muttered reluctantly, because on normal circumstances, you wouldn’t go as far as to let Kim Seungmin help you with chemistry. Not ever.

You weren’t in need of help that desperatly.

And that was a fact, not a matter of ifs, buts, or maybes. That was an absolute. Something that lovely-yet-not-so-much teacher Lucía Fernández, spanish accent and all, was not getting.

“Listen. We both know that your grade is the best I can offer considering your behaviour in my class, despite of your average knowledge of the subject. And in this case, I am offering to set that aside if you work on these following assignments with your classmate Seungmin.”

Her harsh tone was also an absolute, and that made you clench your jaw. You blamed Lucas for her attitude towards you —after all, that one accident with a Bunsen Burner had been mostly his fault—, but you breathed in, trying to offer your most pity-inducing grin.

Judging by her glare, it wasn’t working.

“Miss, I—”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t look like she was. “It’s my last word. And I think that after coming three days to my office on each of your free periods, this is getting a bit tiring.” She sighed, adjusting her glasses by a soft push of her finger.

Nope. She definetely wasn’t sorry.

Witholding a groan you left her office, and huffed as the door closed behind you, swiftly heading to meet your group of friends when they got out of their Biology lesson in other building within the school grounds.

It was a chilly evening, maybe not too much from what one could expect for the first week of February, still one that made you hide your face in your scarf and you hands in your jacket pockets.

You settled your headphones where they belonged, humming to the music to hold back the need to rant and rave against your chemistry teacher, when your phone dinged.

< henry li🫧: everything ok? saw you in lucifer’s office rn

< henry li🫧: did you do smth again? you cheekyyy 🙊

You gingerly laughed, and started typing out your answer, when, out of nowhere, you bumped against someone, making all of the books that they were carrying fall down of their grasp.

You pursed your lips, then pressed them in a thin line. Staring at their— his back, you saw that his backpack was almost empty. Why the fuck would he carry all of his books on his hands then?

The guy had quickly bent down to get his books back, and you followed too, taking your headphones off and quickly trying to prevent the papers from getting wet because of the floor, that was damp from the rain before, when your hands softly brushed against each other, still, you forced yourself to ignore it.

“I’m so…” the word dissapeared in your mouth.

“It’s ok, don’t… oh.” He blinked, his face showing nothing. For fuck’s sake.

Why did it always have to be him?

He swiftly took all of the things from you, as if your touch could be worse than the wet floor. You frowned, feeling a cold shiver trail up your spine, and you crossed your arms in front of you, struggling to seek some warmth.

“Watch it, little one.” He mocked with a light smirk. “I might accidentally step on you one day.”

You looked at him through your eyelashes. What. An. Idiot. You passed a hand through your hair, chuckling dryly.

“I-,” you sighed, shaking your head sideways. “Nah, you know what? I don’t have time for this crap.” You smiled at him widely, full of sarcasm.

But just when you were about to leave, you felt a tug at your sleeve, the fabric of your shirt not thick enough to hide the warmth of Seungmin’s grasp on your forearm. You frowned, confused at the lack of any uncomfortable feelings because of it. There was none, but rather a need to cover yourself with it and wear it like a jacket.

“Did you fix it?”

You blinked, trying to get your brain to focus on his words.

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes, but his hand didn’t move an inch. “You said you were going to talk to Miss Fernández so we wouldn’t be partners, which is, well, so mature, congratulations,” he tsked, but then continued. “But did it work?”

You licked your lips and swallowed, your throat feeling dry. What was going on? You needed to focus.

In a harsh motion, you moved your arm away from his grasp. You forced yourself to ignore how your skin missed it.

“I… no. She settled. You- I mean… we…” the word felt awkward when it rolled off your tongue.

We? There was no such thing in between Seungmin and you. No we, no us, no nothing. And it was like that for a reason. One that you had almost forgotten with how softly his slender and warm hand had been holding your forearm. Ugh.

As you struggled to say those infamous words, your phone dinged again, and you mumbled a short “oh, wait,” and unlocked it.

< henry li🫧: leaving me on read, shortcake?

Seungmin stared at your phone, shoving his hands on his pockets when he saw you smile at the bright screen. He bit his lower lip. He hadn't taken all of his stuff out of his backpack just for this.

“So,” he licked his lips, and it almost shocked you the sudden roughness on his tone and demeanour. “Chemistry is easy. We can meet up on Friday in the public library. An hour or two should be enough, even for someone with a fun-sized brain like yours.” He chuckled meanly, the motherfucker.

Ever since that stupid text from him, you had made it your mission to surpass him, or at least reach his level, and to be honest, you were even succeding in some cases, like philosophy, art history, spanish, technical drawing and business studies. But Chemistry?

Chemistry would always kick you in the ass.

Before you were able to come up with a comeback for his stupid snicker, the bell rang, and you felt an arm laying its weight on your shoulders.

“Smallable!” Lucas laughed, then realized that you were talking to a certain someone and ful Ty ly gasped. “Oh my god. Are you two finally dating and I interrupted— AH!” He was interrupted by your elbow hitting his side. Noa and Atenea chuckled behind him.

“No. Seungmin was just leaving.” You huffed with a frown, but then you smiled, almost excessively, like a small maniac. “Right?”

But before he was able to reply or mock you, Atenea spoke, ruining your chances of kicking him away.

“But we all have English now,” she said, and if it had been someone else, like Lucas, you would’ve stepped on his shoe or something. “We’re going to the same place, we can go together.”

Seungmin felt you stare intensively at him. He smiled at Atenea, finding that he enjoyed having you look at him, reason why he loved annoying the shit out of you.

“Sure!” He smiled politely, almost sheepishly, and you bit your lip to hold back the need to scoff at his 'obviously fake' kindness.

Because except for you, the rest of your class —heck, probably the rest of the school— were smitten with Kim Seungmin.

Top of the class, funny, kind, and cutely introverted Kim Seungmin was just a dorky student who tried to get along with everyone.

But that was wrong. And you may not have any proof aside from his mean attitude towards you and only you, but you knew it.

Seungmin had to be more than just a pretty boy with high grades, and it was only with you that he proved you right.

You stayed next to Lucas, hoping that Seungmin would at least stay with your friends and ignore you.

But to your horror, he smiled at you, a pink dust on his cheeks. “If you don’t mind?”

Oh, son of a bitch.

“No… it’s whatever.” You huffed.

Because against his dorky self, to the rest of your class —heck, to the rest of the school— you were the quote on quote “bad student.”

Troublesome, mean, class clown? Check. You laughed at teachers in class with Lucas far more than what could be ignored, the dresscode had always been more of a guide in what to wear, unlike what most students usually followed, and you may have been expelled a bunch of times.

Even if you were somewhat kind to the people in school, and even if they all knew your rivalry with Seungmin, God forbid you were mean to him.

You wouldn’t see the end of it.

And he knew it.

Bitch.

So there you were, walking to English class with your friends plus innocent Seungmin —who no one had called, not even the ghostbusters—, who was snickering and giggling with Atenea about who-gives-a-shit. Something class-related. You couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Lucas chuckled next to you.

“Careful, Spongebob.” He laughed. “Some could say you seem jealous.”

…WHAT?!

“Of… of Kim Seungmin?” You snorted. “Are you on drugs?”

He ruffled your hair. “Sure, sure, keep lying to yourself, shortie.”

Finally, you arrived to class, but before you stepped inside, Seungmin stopped you, whispering in your ear.

“Yeah, shortie.” He teased, his lips almost grazing the shell of your ear. “Don’t be too jealous. We wouldn’t want everyone to know you love me.”

His whisper would’ve been almost enticing if it weren’t for the fact that it was Kim Seungmin the man in question, and he snickered, pushing his glasses back.

But then someone cleared his throat behind you two.

“Care to sit down? I don’t have all day.” Mister Holmes grunted, carrying a monster drink and a coffe at the same time.

That mas was slightly terryifing.

You squinted at Seungmin and then walked to your place at the back of the class, hoping that your cheeks felt warm because of how the teacher had startled you and definetely not your classmate’s honey-like voice.

“Pssst. Heeey,” Noa smiled teasingly, whispering with a smirk. “Pssst. You’re blushing…!”

“Shut up!” You frowned at her, but you were unable to hold back a smile. But it was because of your friend Noa. Not Kim Seungmin.

Mr Holmes cleared his throat, and finished off his monster, throwing it to the bin.

“So. I’ve been hearing from some students in the hallways that you’re all excited for saint valentines’ day.” He stated in a strong voice, one that filled the class with little to no effort. “And sadly so, I was thinking of putting an exam that Wednesday…” he faked a sigh, and you had to hold back a laugh, contrary to the frowns and groans that appeared in your classmates faces. Pfft, what a character. “Unless… you guys want to do something in true valentines fashion.”

Mr Holmes crossed his arms, laying back on his chair, his stare cold and face lacking any kind of emotions.

“Say… any ideas, Mr… Kim?”

Seungmin sat up straight at his name being mentioned, and you rolled your eyes, holding back a mocking smirk.

“I ugh… I wouldn’t want to bother my classmates with a lot of work, sir… but maybe… maybe a writing assingment related to the topic would be… enough?” Seungmin stated, his tone soft and shy, and there was even a blush that trailed up from his neck, but he stayed staight and firm as he spoke.

“A valentine-themed task.” Mr Holmes enunciated as he pondered. “It’s a… decent idea. Any complaints?”

You felt some of your classmates’ eyes on you, and you sighed, crossing your arms in front of you, remaining silent. As long as it wasn’t an exam, you’d accept whatever.

“With that settled, I’ll upload the task online this afternoon, but it’ll have to be written by hand. Be sure to hand in a picture of your assignment on time, or your final grade will be affected.” The teacher turned on his laptop, and started taking assistance.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Time had passed dreadfully slowly, until the bell rang and Mr Holmes dissmissed all of you so everyone could leave for the day.

“A valentine-themed task.” You huffed in annoyance as you stuffed your locker with books you weren’t going to take home.

“I thought it was original.” A voice snickered lowly behind you, and you slapped your locker close, smiling at him.

“Well, Henry. It’s no surprise your taste sucks.”

You chuckled when he rolled his eyes.

“I was waiting for your reply,” he mentioned with a soft tone.

You closed your locker, and you two started walking together. “Oh, sorry, I totally forgot,” you apologized with a smile, but he brushed it off. “Yeah, I was with Lucifer earlier. She’s making me work with Seungmin for this term’s assignments.”

Henry frowned. “And we hate that guy… right…” you chuckled.

“Exactly. We don’t like him.”

“So then, don’t do it. You were going to meet him to study, right?” You nodded, smirking slightly at him.

“We agreeded to meet on Friday to start, in the library.” You added, watching his smirk widen. “What are you thinking?”

He stopped walking, smiling at you. “There’s this club that opened recently. Been wanting to go have a look. Apparently, it’s like exclusive and shit. And it’s Friday.” His light-coloured eyes shined as he looked at you. “Meet me there?”

You grinned cheekily.

“Sure. Can’t wait.”

[☆★🌷★☆]

You hadn’t noticed Seungmin on the school bus until this year.

Because he had made himself noticeable, sitting at the back of the bus, a couple seats away from you, but oh, dorky Seungmin was always friend of everyone, sheepishly starting conversation with any kinds of people in the bus, no matter the year they were in.

Before his text, you had even thought he was cute as he gingerly chatted with a group of kids who were probably starting high school.

“Is it too difficult?” A little girl asked.

And it surprised you how he turned to her and smiled, almost tugging at your heart strings, eyes like crescent moons.

“It’s only difficult if you stop trying. And we don’t give up, right?” He stated cheerfuly, and all the kids shined at his sheepish and bashful brightness, high-fiving the girl that talked to him.

You forced yourself to shove those memories to the back of your mind. That Seungmin wasn’t real. And you didn’t like him. The real him. Right?

“Oi, Kim Seungmin.” You called, as it was only you two left on the bus.

He was surprised at your call, but only side-eyed at you, lazily raising his brows, signalling that he was listening. You frowned.

See? You thought to yourself. He’s mean. He isn’t sweet, nor cute. Focus.

“What kind of lame ass idea was that?” You huffed with a mean smile. “A valentine-themed assignment.” You snorted.

His bus stop was close, so he ignored you as he picked up his coat and backpack, but you kept on talking. “You know? Hallmark office called, they want their boring clichés back,” you mocked, laughing.

Backpack on and coat hanging on his arm, he stared at you, and waited for a red light to walk to your seat.

He settled next to you, still staring at you as you chimed mean remarks about his originality and such and such.

“Anything else to mumble? I couldn’t hear you from down there.” He snorted meanly, and you were too focused on annoying him that you didn’t notice his stare at your lips as he licked his own.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a lame guy. He gave you the chance to choose, and you chose that piece of—?!”

His lips tasted as sweet as his voice that day with those little kids.

You felt his hand slowly creep up and cradle your face, his eyes closed as he kissed you, and slowly, your eyes closed too.

It was sweet. So sweet. But what was it? It was a flavour that you knew. Its sweetness was so familiar, but you couldn’t seem to figure out what was it.

You kissed him back, and he let out a surprised whine as you sighed, your hands, which had been frozen on his shoulders, waiting for your order to push him away, slowly followed up and remained on his face, your thumbs almost stroking his cheeks.

You wanted needed to know what he tasted like.

But it was when your hands went into his hair that he sighed too, melting under your touch, that your brain clicked.

…

what were you doing?

…

WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!

You pushed him away, and your breath hitched.

He didn’t look like fake Seungmin.

In front of you was not the innocent boy who had straight A’s and was shy enough to not be able to say no to a lot of things, who sheepishly spoke up in class, or who treated everyone with a bashful kindness that was so endearing.

This Seungmin was different. His glasses had a bit of a fog in them, his hair was all messed up, and his lips were plush, pink from your tinted gloss and slightly swollen from your kiss.

This Seungmin was a wreck, all flustered and kissable, and he looked like a mess.

But it felt real.

And for a second, you wanted to kiss him again, yearning to figure what that kiss tasted like, the word for it almost in the tip of your tongue.

He panted, struggling to catch his breath.

“Finally,” he huffed with a smile, but his dark eyes didn’t match the mocking in his tone. A small part of your mind thought that they looked prettier than any light eyes you had ever seen. “So you were able to shut up, after all.” He gulped, still panting.

He moved away from you slowly, as you remained there, frozen, like a piece of art in front of him, cheeks blushed, lips flushed and parted as your eyes stared at him, an emotion much different from this evening.

He found himself enjoying this one even more.

“Eh… T-this is my bus stop.” He muttered when the bus stopped. Maybe it wasn’t, but he didn’t care. He felt like he would have the energy to run home if needed. “I-I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

You blinked as he stood up and walked away.

What…

What had just happened?

[☆★🌷★☆]

[asimplearchivist]

It seems like everyone assumes that Miles and Miguel, if when they reconcile, will have a strained relationship at best (which is totally understandable), but I feel like there is so much potential for such wholesome interactions between those two.

(Big brother Miguel headcanons under the cut.)

Both having Latina/Hispanic moms, talking about how the home cooking is so much better than anything else. (Miguel teaching Miles some of the family recipes that he can no longer show Gabriella, and how homemade empanadas are so much better than the ones in the cafeteria.)

Spanglish. Miguel, on principle, trying to steer him towards proper Spanish but doing so great of a job of it himself—it’s a constant back and forth teasing. Playful arguments and bickering in Spanish that make the others exchange oblivious glances, Miles getting frustrated when his vocabulary fails him, Miguel offering the words (and curses) to him with a grin knowing Miles would get fussed at if he ever let them slip them around his mom. Miles’ fluency improving exponentially because Miguel challenges him and makes him speak in nothing but sometimes while he gives him oral reports. Rio being so proud of her boy’s improved accent but being so puzzled as to why it suddenly got better.

Big/little brother tussling. Miguel armlocks Miles and ruffles his hair just to irritate him. Miles climbs all over Miguel. Slapping each other, punching each other, shadow boxing. Casual affection that Miles never got since he doesn’t have a sibling, and Miguel gets to indulge for the first time in years since he misses Gabriel more than he ever thought he would.

Miguel showing him the ropes, different techniques, how to handle hand-to-hand better (bc let’s face it, Miles isn’t that scrappy—see: his scuffle with the Spot). Miles being quicker and outwitting Miguel’s brute strength. Betting pools traveling hands while all the other Spiders watch their sparring matches, laughter ringing out every time Miguel manages to land a blunt slap against Miles’ flank, talons withdrawn, with a smug, “Gotcha, hermanito. Watch your back.”

Miles dealing with an anomaly in his universe, calling for backup. Miguel swooping in like he did with Gwen, whooping ass because only he gets to bully Miles Morales (lovingly). Miles watching in bemusement as they deliver the anomaly to base and the others are curious why they’re so terrified of Miguel and want to go home so bad.

Miles’ silly little jokes rubbing off on Miguel. Miguel’s flat sarcasm rubbing off on Miles. Them saying jokes/punchlines/puns at the same time. The others groan and roll their eyes. “You’re corrupting him, Miguel.”/“You’re spending too much time with that stick in the mud, Miles.”

Miles going to Miguel when he has trouble with his dad, needs advice, or just feels down. Miguel not being quite so comfortable to offer physical comfort, but willing to give him a hug if he needs one. Miguel giving him advice where he can. Miguel letting him hang out with him while he works. (Miguel’s heart softening to mush when Miles starts bringing his sketchbook with him to vent through his art, curling up nearby on the platform.) Miguel offering to teach him some things on tech and such to keep Miles’ brain occupied when it’s going a mile a minute—working with one’s hands does wonders, after all.

Peter B catching them holed away somewhere zonked on a couch, Miguel protectively wrapping an arm around Miles’ shoulders in his sleep while he snores like a bear. Peter snaps a picture, throws a blanket over them, and leaves them be.

Just…big brother Miguel🥹please let it happen.

[ladybug023]

Cigarette Kisses and Regrets

Lalo Salamanca x OC Alejandra Romero

Notes: In this oneshot is set in the late 1980s, Lalo is sent by the cartel to infiltrate a police precinct that is defying them. But he never anticipated getting attached to Alejandra Romero, a cop who was assigned as his partner. She calls him Jorge or Angel Eyes since he's under the alias of Jorge De Guzman.

Also, they’re actually speaking Spanish for the entire conversation since it’s their first language and they’re in Mexico. But I didn’t want to full the entire page with translations so I just wrote it in English. I’ll be sure to add Spanish or Spanglish when they’re in America.

Lalo’s age: 30

Alejandra’s age: 29

Warnings: post sex, light cursing, nothing too bad.

——————————————————

Lalo Salamanca, going by the name Jorge De Guzman, stood silently by the open window of the bedroom. Wearing nothing but his boxers, he gazed at the moon shining brightly in the sky, illuminating the dark room with its soft glow. He was deep in thought, his mind consumed. He wondered to himself, was it guilt he was feeling? He raised a hand to his lips, taking a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling slowly. The smoke twirled and danced around him, forming a hazy cloud in the air.

Suddenly, he heard a rustling behind him and turned to see Alejandra stirring awake. "Why can't you sleep, Angel Eyes?" she inquired, her voice still drowsy from slumber. It was her love for spaghetti westerns that led her to nickname him Angel Eyes, as she said he reminded her of the character, particularly in his eyes and smile.

Lalo shrugged nonchalantly, smirking. "I don't sleep much," he replied, taking another drag of his cigarette. "But don't worry, I don’t need much of it anyways."

Alejandra sat up, her hair tousled from their time together. "I wish you would take better care of yourself," she said, concern etched in her sweet voice.

She was so considerate, Lalo's mind was already spinning with the idea of her quitting the police force and running away together. He could hide her away, keep her all for himself. It would be the perfect solution, the only way he could keep her safe. He never anticipated dealing with this kind of bullshit when he went undercover. To him, it was merely about fucking over a bunch of pigs, but then he met his precious Ale. She wasn't like the other swine - Alejandra was beautiful and sharp as a knife. One moment, she was tough and unyielding like steel, and the next, she was gentle and soft as silk. Over the time they spent together she became more than just his Sergeant and mentor, she managed to burrow her way into Lalo’s heart, despite it being as black as coal.

“Hey, what's going on in that head of yours?”Alejandra asked, sensing his unease.

“Just thinking about life," he said, he studied how lovely she looked in the moonlight. "You know, the usual stuff."

Alejandra sat up, wrapping the sheets around her as she moved to join him by the window. "Life, huh? What's there to think about?"

Lalo took another drag of his cigarette and then said, "I was just thinking, you know, about…us.” He noticed her shifting uncomfortably at the mention of them. Lalo figured it was because of the fact that their affair could get both fired. Alejandra was his superior after all. “Should we continue doing what we're doing or start something new?”

Alejandra's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about Jorge?”

Lalo took a deep breath before continuing. “I mean, we could leave the police force and run. Start fresh somewhere else," he said, his eyes searching hers for any hint of agreement.

Alejandra frowned as she looked at him. “As tempting as that sounds, we can't run away from our responsibilities. It’s our obligation to protect this town, and I won’t cower away from those wolves,” she said, conviction in her voice.

Lalo's heart sank. He couldn't tell her the real reason he suggested they leave. She’d never understand. “I don't think you understand how dangerous they are, Ale. They want to kill you,” he warned her.

“You mean kill us,” she corrected, raising her chin with pride. “And I'm not afraid of the cartel.”

Usually, Lalo found her stubbornness endearing and even attractive, but right now, it was getting on his nerves. “You know, one day your pride and righteousness is going to get you killed. Do you want to end up bleeding out alone like your father?” His words were much, much harsher than he intended. Alejandra’s eyes narrowed when he mention her father, her hero. She stood before him silently, one of her hands clutched the sheets against her chest and her other was balled tightly into a fist.

After a couple of moments of tense silence, Lalo relented.“I shouldn't have said that…I just don't want you to get hurt,” he added, his voice softening.

Alejandra’s anger slowly dissipated, reaching for his hands. “The reason I don't fear the cartel is because I have you watching my back. Angel Eyes, you and I can take them. I know we can.” she assured him, her cinnamon brown eyes sparkling with affection.

‘I don’t have your back…. You’re so alone and vulnerable, and you don’t even know it.’ He thought to himself. He masked his disappointment with a false smile.

She then took a cigarette and placed it in her mouth before standing on her tippy toes to light it using Lalo's cigarette, the tips met in what they called a cigarette kiss.

He understood now that he couldn't save his beloved Ale. No matter how much he wanted to keep her by his side, she would never join him. Her damn moral code would never allow it. Alejandra had once said that her father divided people into three categories: the sheep, the wolves who prey on the sheep, and the sheepdogs who protect the flock. Both Lalo and Alejandra were driven by their innate nature - she as a sheepdog, and he as a wolf. This meant that they were destined to destroy each other. He hoped that this fact would make it easier for him to do what he had to do.

As the first rays of dawn broke the horizon, Lalo felt a sense of longing wash over him. He knew that he couldn't stay with her forever, but for the fleeting time they shared, he wanted nothing more than to bask in her presence. The smoke from their cigarettes curled into the air, mixing with the light of the rising sun. With each inhale, he breathed in her essence, savoring every moment before it slipped away.

[jow99]

A few small trials

Tuesday dawned wet and cold. Unfortunately our plan had been to buy something for the grave of Mums family today so we were out in the wet and cold for a bit. We bought a flowering pot plant which fitted into the flower holder and it looked really nice. Mum was really pleased so it was a productive morning.

We went back to Wetherspoons for a reviving coffee before heading over to David’s for the afternoon. We have noticed him cheering up every day. I feel bad that our time here is almost over.

Another quiet night in our AirBnb, enjoying the last of my English television.

Wednesday dawned much nicer. Mum and I were up early getting ourselves organised. Our first stop was the cemetery where Barbara’s funeral was and where her ashes will eventually be scattered. None of us knew that they wait a month before they scatter the ashes in case the family change their mind (it’s obviously happened before). It was still nice to see where she will be and the chapel where the funeral was held.

Next we picked up David and went to Wetherspoons for breakfast. I hate to admit we’ve been into Wetherspoons at least once each day we’ve been here 🙄 Anyway we had a nice breakfast and then it was time to drop him home and head back to the airport. It was rather heartbreaking saying goodbye.

We then had a rather fraught time getting out of Ashton. It was quite busy and Google Maps kept telling me to turn across traffic. Eventually we were out, petrol tank filled and on our way to the airport.

Getting through security and even onto the plane was a complete dog’s breakfast, not an experience I’m in a hurry to repeat. The icing on the cake was the delay in our plane taking off because “they didn’t have the machine that was needed to start the plane” 😳 I wasn’t the only one to snicker at that.

Finally we were back in Barcelona with a lot less time before the bus than I had bargained on. Having purchased the tickets and believing I had sussed out which bay our bus was leaving from (I was worried about being in the wrong spot and missing the bus), we had time for a quick glass of wine before departure.

As we headed to the bus I though I’d look for our seat numbers only to discover that the “plaza” was our seat number not the bay 😩 I kept my head and we headed towards the ticket machine where I’d purchased our tickets (God forbid you could find anyone to ask). With great relief I saw a board with the buses all listed. It still didn’t show a bay number but I was feeling confident we were in the right place.

That was until the time came and went and our bus disappeared off the board. Now the meltdown got a bit more real, my worst fear had been realised. I then noticed another couple looking somewhat perplexed do in my Spanglish and their French I worked out they too were waiting for the L’Escala bus. We decided it had just been delayed, but by the time 20 minutes had passed we were all looking at the timetable for the next bus, which wasn’t until 12:00 the next day. It was then I spotted a bus turning in with the words Costa Brava on the side. I have never been so happy to see a bus 😅

Thankfully the trip home after that was uneventful and we collapsed into bed around midnight.

Meanwhile the time in Galicia is passing with lunches out and trips to Sarria, etc. They return tomorrow and I hope for them it is uneventful.

[therealriver1]

Part 3/4 continued from the previous post. Due to text block restrictions I am forced to do divide my post like this

⦁ Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters 2013 (A twist on the old tale of Hansel and Gretel) ⦁ Ninja Assassin 2009 (I was watching this before I even knew Jung Ji-Hoon aka Rain was a k-pop idol and I just thought the ninjas were so badass) ⦁ The Orphan 2009 (Isabelle Fuhrman the actress who plays the orphan was phenomenal in this role, very creepy) ⦁ The Island 2005 (An action/sci-fi film from Michael Bay starring actors Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson) ⦁ Beyond Re-animator 2003 (It's so bad it's good! There are two previous films in this series adapted from H.P Lovecraft. I'd suggest you start there. This won't be everyone's cup of tea, you will either love or hate it) ⦁ Aquamarine 2006 (I watched this in the cinema with a group of friends in my school days and it was such a fun time) ⦁ This Means War 2012 (I just loved watching Tom Hardy & Chris Pine together) ⦁ How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days 2003 (The chemistry between Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey was so good to watch) ⦁ Rush Hour 1988 1-3 (I cannot believe this movie is already 36 years old! Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker were so funny) ⦁ The Mask 1994 (A looney comedy starring Jim Carrey and Cameron Diaz) ⦁ Shallow Hall 2001 (A movie that teaches us that beauty is more than just looks) ⦁ Two Can Play That Game 2001 (All the ladies need to watch this one, but I'm sure the men will enjoy it too) ⦁ Boat Trip 2002 (A fun comedy starring Cuba Gooding Jr and Roselyn Sánchez. I've got to say this one is definitely not kid friendly) ⦁ King Kong 2005 (The Visuals were stunning! This movie was made by Peter Jackson the same man who gave us TLOTR and The Hobbit Series) ⦁ Simone 2001 (Starring Al Pacino. If you've heard about this then I am impressed) ⦁ Revenant 2015 (Intense and full of suspense. I couldn't stop looking at the screen waiting to see what happens next) ⦁ The Gods Must Be Crazy 1980 (A fun story showing the difference of how the Bushman lives compared to modern man) ⦁ Liar, Liar 1997 (Jim Carrey plays a lawyer who is a pathological liar in this zany comedy) ⦁ Django Unchained 2012 (From director Quentin Tarantino comes a great western that you cannot skip. I saw this one with my parents and all of us enjoyed it) ⦁ Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging 2008 (Adolescent film that doesn't feel like it's PG13) ⦁ Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery 1997 (Just for laughs! Mike Myers from Shrek is hilarious in this film) ⦁ Maid in Manhattan 2002 (Who knew Voldemort and Jennifer Lopez had such great chemistry. All jokes aside it is a great rom-com) ⦁ Kings Ransom 2005 (Starring Anthony Anderson and Regina Hall. I've got to say I thought the whole cast was funny) ⦁ Undercover Brother 2002 (You are in for a good time with this one. Another fun comedy to watch to lift your mood) ⦁ Codename: The Cleaner 2007 (Okay looks like I have quite a few comedies on my list. Starring Cedric the Entertainer & Lucy Liu) ⦁ Along Came Polly 2007 (Another fun comedy starring Ben Stiller and Jennifer Aniston) ⦁ Dracula Dead and Loving It 1995 (An underrated vampire parody comedy from Mel Brooks starring Leslie Nielson) ⦁ Banditas 2006 (Salma Hayek and Penélope Cruz rob banks in this western style action-comedy) ⦁ The School of Rock 2003 (I'll always come back to this film. I cannot recommend it enough) ⦁ Alpha 2018 (Wolf alert! I repeat, this movie contains wolves) ⦁ Spanglish 2004 (An amusing comedy film starring Adam Sandler) ⦁ 1408 2007 (Room 1408, a horror mystery starring John Cusack and Samuel L. Jackson adapted from a Stephen King short story) ⦁ End of Days 1999 (A dark horror film filled with suspense) ⦁ Heartbreak Kid 2007 (This movie had me laughing out loud) ⦁ The Sleepover 2004 (A fun teen movie about friendship) ⦁ Maid of Honor 2008 (Who doesn't enjoy a good friends to lovers' trope. This rom-com features a young Patrick Dempsey and Michelle Monaghan) ⦁ Who Am I 1998 (Another Jackie Chan film that I still think is funny and will always watch again)

⦁ Bridget Jones's Diary 2001 (A great cast with a great plot. I thoroughly enjoyed this one)

[thealphabetmurders]

Some tips on writing Latino OCs/characters

Avoid the stereotype of the sex-siren “fiesty” Latino tropes: This stereotype does more harm than good, as almost all classic TV representation for Latinos is shown as the big hypersexualized character. By boiling down a Latino character to simply their sexual appeal, it denies them of their cultural identification if they do not fit what non-Latinos imagine all of them look like. 

Not all Latinos speak Spanish: In fact, many Latinos do not speak Spanish that often or at all. Many times, non-bilingual/Spanish speaking individuals will write Latino characters “slipping” into speaking Spanish. This, obviously, does not happen in real life. If a Latino says something in Spanish then they meant to say it in Spanish. Here are some realistic reasons why a Latino character could say something in Spanish/Spanglish:

They are speaking to their grandparents or other people who only speak that language

For emphasis. I would sometimes speak to my partner in Spanish because I felt as though I could express myself better and more naturally (also ‘te amo’ feels more impactful than ‘I love you’, but that just may be a personal thing), but this did not occur often. 

They are short phrases that any non-Spanish speaker could pick up on. Hola, gracias, de nada, mucho mejor, qué onda, madre/parde, casa, por qué are all ones I use around my friends sometimes. Again, sometimes.

There are others I am sure, but please be careful when writing a Latino character speaking Spanish. As a Latino living in America, if I am be honest, unless speaking with other Spanish speaking individuals, I do not use the language all too often (just like any other language, weird how that happens). 

Do your research naming Latino characters: Please do not simply look up “Hispanic names” and choose the ones you like off of a list. If all your names look something like “Diego Rodriguez” then you are doing a bad job. Here are some tips: 

69% of South America is Catholic and 19% is Protestant. Using that information, you are bound to have a lot of religious names. All of my siblings are named after biblical figures. Some examples I see a lot are: Rebecca, Isaiah, Claudia, Gabriela, Marcus, Elizabeth etc.

In Latino culture, many times children take both their parents last names so their names would be hyphenated. For example: Father’s last name could be Perez-ABC and Mother’s could be Ramirez-XYZ so the child’s name would be Perez-Ramirez. 

This isn’t a hard and fast rule. If only one of the parents is Latino than most often they will simply do what most of Western culture does and take the father’s last name as the family name.

Represent many aspects of Latino culture: I far too often only see Mexican Latinos, which is great, but also there are many other countries/places to represent (Cuba, Colombia, Puerto Rico, Costa Rica, Peru, Chile, Honduras and more)

Latinos have a variety of hair colors and skin tones and body types, make them: Afro-Latino people exist, write them. White passing Latinos exist, write them (though if you are only ever writing Latinos with pale olive skin and eurocentric features, you’re doing it badly). Latino people with thick curly hair and bold features exist. Talk about it. Latinas are not just your vessel to write about “thicc” or curvy women. Petite Latinos and especially plus sized latinos need representation. Represent them. 

Latinos do not just eat ‘Mexican’ food: Stop associating all your characters with tacos and burritos. 

If you do have Latino characters don’t be afraid to make them queer or disabled or anything else under-represented. 

Avoid stereotypes altogether: The maid, the drug dealer, the sex symbol, the immigrant, we get it. That’s all we see in the media. Look up stereotypes, avoid them. It’s not “making a statement”, it’s racist, stop it. 

If you describe any Latino person as “spicy” or “exotic”..................... :) you know

Make sure the connection to their cultural background makes sense: Some Latinos have a strong connection to their country and culture, some do not. Make sure it makes sense for their family history, background, etc.

This is all I can sort of think of off the top of my head. Latino people, please feel free to add on with anything else (my experiences are a bit limited as a Puerto Rican living in America, so the more perspectives the merrier). White people and non-Latino POC’s can comment questions but please don’t clown (no “I am not latino but also...!)

Please reblog, this is important for non-Latino creators!

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot - “Draining Pipes” (Rated M)

Summary: After Sebastian is accidentally exposed to Covid, Kurt convinces him to quarantine. While the rest of the city is slowly opening up, Kurt is returning to a life that resembles normal. But for Sebastian, home alone without his boyfriend, isolation is changing him. And Kurt has some concerns... (2063 words)

Notes: Yes, this is a pandemic fic, but I promise, it's funny XD

Read on AO3.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!"

"Nope. Try again."

Kurt's head snaps up so quickly he stutters a step, nearly tripping over his feet even though he'd already stopped walking. He glares at Sebastian from across the room as if the man had gotten up from his seat, strolled over, and, without a word, vomited rancid sushi all over his Manolo Blahniks. "What?"

In a tone reminiscent of one his NYADA dance teacher, Cassie July, used that made Kurt prickle from head to toe, Sebastian says, "Try. again."

"Try what again?"

"Walking through the door."

Kurt spins around to examine the doorway, searching for clues about what he could have possibly done incorrectly. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with the way I walk through the door!?"

"Every time you come home, you say, 'Hi, honey! I'm home!'"

"Yeah, and... ?"

"It's boring. Unoriginal. It harkens back to an era of television situation comedy that had no hand in influencing our generation and, frankly, regurgitating it is beneath you and your dramatic talents."

Kurt plants his hands on his hips and gawks. What the hell happened to his boyfriend while he was away? He was only gone four hours! "Have you been rifling through my old schoolbooks again? I told you, there was no Illuminati conspiracy going on at NYADA!"

"Why don't you try something different?" Sebastian counters, neither confirming nor denying Kurt's accusation. "Something a bit more, dare I say, exotic?"

"Exotic?" Kurt scrunches his nose with distaste when he says it. Of all the words in the English language, that's one of his least favorite. "What constitutes exotic in your twisted opinion?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're the creative, not me."

"What? I... " A dozen arguments about how he's just gotten home, how exhausted he is, how travel between here and the theater was a pain in the ass because some people still don't seem to understand what 'over the mouth AND nose' means so navigating his way through the subway was like playing a game of human Tetris with potentially infected pieces and that he's never been all that good at Tetris anyway! die on his lips. 

It would be a waste of breath.

Still, Kurt doesn't know why he indulges him, but he turns on his heel and walks back out the door. After a few seconds of deep breathing in the hall to keep from screaming bloody murder, he storms back in and brightly declares, "Buenos dias, motherfucker! Como what's up?"

Seeing as the two of them speak fluent French, Spanglish is the most exotic thing he could come up with.

Sebastian nods in stoic approval. "Better. How goes life on the apocalyptic landscape?"

"I'm not selling my body for Cocoa Krispies if that's what you're asking," Kurt quips, wondering if this is how Sebastian acts at work and how no one has put the man through a window yet, partner or not.

"So what I'm hearing is you didn't bring home Cocoa Krispies."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, well... " Kurt removes his shoes and socks, then sheds his coat, his messenger bag, his slacks, and his dress shirt, carefully piling them on a chair by the front door - their staging area for decontamination. While he undresses, he eyes Sebastian, not paying him an inch of mind, sitting on what has been dubbed the convalescence corner of the sofa, dressed in a soft white tee and flannel lounge pants, his laptop open on legs covered by a quilt his mother made for him when he was ten. Sebastian knows for a fact that Kurt is undressing and yet he's not leering at him, wolf-whistling under his breath or licking his lips like he's watching an Outback Steakhouse commercial. He's simply sitting in his spot, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

And Kurt loathes it.

Sebastian's attentions have been waning more and more lately, and even though it's savagely bruising Kurt's ego, he can't blame him.

Depending on how they choose to look at things, this situation could kind of, slightly, sort of be deemed Kurt's fault.

"Thank you again for doing this," Kurt says, extending an olive branch. He's been doing this so often over the past few months, he's started buying in bulk. "I can't tell you how much you keeping your distance and staying home has put my mind at ease."

Sebastian doesn't look at him when he replies: "No sweat, babe."

"I know it was just one small cough... and the kid was wearing two masks... and a face shield... "

"Hey, like you said, no need taking any chances. Right?"

"Right," Kurt agrees. And he believes it. He believed it then and he believes it now. Had the roles been reversed, Kurt would make the sacrifice, more than willing to lock himself away for the sake of curbing this disease and keeping Sebastian healthy.

But it isn't him. 

And he feels like dirt going to work three days a week, returning to something that resembles normal knowing what Sebastian is missing out on.

"It's his mother's fault for not mentioning that her little plague rat has covid before I got stuck on the elevator with them," Sebastian says, possibly trying to make Kurt feel better even though his gaze hasn't shifted.

"But quarantining for six days longer than necessary? That's above and beyond! I mean it. You deserve a medal." 

Sebastian tosses him a wink over his shoulder but he doesn't linger, giving half-naked Kurt only a brief once over. "I got you, fam. Besides, time's up tomorrow. Then... " He thousand-yard stares in the direction of the flat screen "... it's rat-hunting season."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it?" Kurt asks guiltily as Sebastian's eyes return to his laptop. He'll admit that maybe he did go a tad overboard when he'd found out Sebastian had been exposed, banishing him to one end of the penthouse and the guest bedroom, keeping him at broom handle length for the past nineteen days. 

But they were almost in the clear! And that's the part that pisses Kurt off most. 

The disease hasn't been eradicated, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The theater started allowing small groups to return for socially distanced practices. That's a huge win for Kurt. Being away from Broadway and rehearsals and opening nights and curtain calls... it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

Sebastian was on the brink of going back to the office a few days a week, too. It wasn't so much not being at the office that bothered him, but the peripherals - eating lunch at his favorite deli or hitting the gym before dinner. 

Sebastian had taken three tests after that fateful elevator incident, all of which came back negative, so he was confident everything would be alright. He was in the midst of planning his first in-person meeting, but Kurt balked, pointing out that there has been so much controversy over the accuracy of those tests. Sebastian offered to take three more if necessary, but regardless of the outcome, Kurt didn't feel it safe. And even though they had access to the vaccine (because money), being exposed, even minorly, pushed Sebastian's timetable for receiving his first dose back two weeks.

Kurt's father and stepmother have both received theirs, and Kurt was so looking forward to taking a trip to Ohio for a first hug in over a year. He's going to be damned if a four-foot-tall Petri dish ruins that for him!

But because of his paranoia, Kurt and Sebastian haven't touched, haven't kissed in two weeks. They tried the whole Skype sex thing from different rooms of the penthouse, aiming to recapture old college day thrills to boot, but it didn't work out the way they'd hoped. And even though they see each other every day, talk to one another, aggravate each other, throw popcorn and other food items at each other, Kurt misses Sebastian like the dickens. He misses his hugs, his warmth, his smell.

And yes, he misses the sex.

"Since I've been back to work, you've had the peace and privacy to watch those wacky pornos that your brother sends you."

"Yup," Sebastian says, typing something into his search bar that Kurt can't quite make out. "The wackiest."

"Didn't he say something about them being illegal in the contiguous 49 states?"

"Forty-eight. Tennessee turned itself around."

"It would be Tennessee."

"Always is."

"You probably haven't given your fleshjack a rest in two weeks," Kurt prods, worried over these short responses. 

"Mmph... mmm-hmm... "

Kurt starts circling the sofa when all he gets is a chuckle in response, curious if Sebastian is even listening to him. He comes up behind him, standing on a piece of painter's tape they'd put down to mark six feet so Kurt can peek over his shoulder.

And what he sees on Sebastian's screen makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you watching?"

"Drain clearing videos."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "Drain clearing? Wh-what does that mean?"

"This guy drives all over, and when he finds a street that's flooded, he takes out a rake, drags it through the water, and tries to find the blocked drain."

"Does he work for the city?"

"Nah. He's just some guy."

"And he's made a whole channel about... clearing drains."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're watching it?"

"It came up in my recommendations so I clicked one." Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling when stagnant grey water, punctuated by speckles of rain, turns into a whirlpool, rushing through thick iron bars embedded in the concrete and disappearing from view. "It's so satisfying."

"What on Earth were you watching before this that YouTube recommended it?"

"Car cleaning videos."

Kurt's left eyebrow slowly climbs up his forehead. "A-ha."

"Yup. I never realized how relaxing it is to watch a handsome guy Bissell Kool-Aid stains out of carpet. But now... it's my jam."

Kurt huffs, offended on behalf of himself and his own vigorous cleaning regimen. "It wasn't your jam when I was steam cleaning our throw rugs! And the curtains!"

"Yeah, well, things hit different when you're forced into isolation."

Kurt storms forward a step. But then he remembers. And he stops, foot hovering an inch past the sacred boundary that keeps him from venturing too close to infection. He teeters, determination creasing his brow while anxiety wrestles his shoulders back. All the while, a war wages inside his tired brain:

"Get him! You've been vaccinated!"

"It's only one dose!"

"He's not even sick!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Yes... it... IS!"

"Come on!" Kurt demands, throwing himself bodily at the sofa. He grabs Sebastian's hand, a small voice screaming inside his head as if his tiny naysayer is being burned at the stake. "Come with me... NOW!"

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, rushing to move his computer to the side before he gets dragged off the sofa by his surprisingly strong boyfriend.

"This is an intervention."

"But you shouldn't be touching me! Or breathing my air! I have one day left!"

"You're fine! If you haven't gotten sick by now, you probably aren't going to! This is an emergency!"

"What emergency?"

"Quarantine has turned you into someone I don't recognize! Car cleaning videos? Who are you right now?"

"They're educational. It's good to learn a new skill."

Kurt barks a laugh that could shatter crystal. "Right. Like you'd ever. You'd pay highway robbery to have your ten-speed detailed!"

"Nope, because you'd do it for free."

 Kurt rolls his eyes, unwilling to entertain his boyfriend's mocking of him to ask whether or not that's code. "If you're going to ogle a man wielding a Bissell, Goddammit, it's going to be me!"

"So... are we going to clean some carpets?"

"We're going to take a shower and then have sex. A lot of sex. You're getting fucked and sucked until you're back to normal."

Sebastian snorts, delighted by his incredibly good fortune. "If you insist. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

Kurt stops short and faces Sebastian. He looks him over, making certain he doesn't seem particularly sick, and shrugs.

"We'll wear masks. Or three. I don't need to kiss you to make you cum." Kurt continues to drag Sebastian towards the bathroom as his grin grows to epic proportions.

"Kinky."

[lyraspace]

Spanglish (A Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends FanFiction)

There were times where Bloo just couldn't understand Eduardo, no matter how hard he genuinely tried.

If it wasn't a joke that translated poorly, ruining the punchline, it was the way Eduardo oftentimes used his native language to butt people out of a conversation he didn't want others listening in on. (Especially him, no fair!) And if it wasn't the millions of rules Spanish required for you to speak it properly, (What do you mean there's four words for car in Spanish?!) it was the way Eduardo belted out Selena Quintanilla lyrics in the shower EVERY morning. (And the only reason Bloo even knew who that lady was, was because Eduardo wouldn't shut up about her!)

In other words, Eduardo was better off using as little Spanish around him as possible.

The problem with that was, either Eduardo didn't get the memo, or he was too stupid to understand it.

It all started one Friday morning, and Imaginary Friends of all shapes and sized were locked in a heated completion of wit; Madame Foster's Friday Morning Breakfast Trivia.

Bloo was on a rather impressive winning streak, in spite of having Eduardo for his team partner (and only because everyone else had already formed their teams), and by the end of breakfast he was so close to victory he could taste it.

But on the last question, the very last question, Eduardo ruined everything.

The big lummox took it upon himself to shout some attempt at an answer in Spanish, and apparently that didn't count, giving some other team the opportunity to answer the question and win the competition.

And like that, victory slipped from Bloo's stubby little hands, leaving him with nothing but the very bitter taste of defeat.

As everyone leaves the dining room to do other things, Bloo stews in his fury and disbelief. Eduardo tries to touch his shoulder as a form of comfort, but he swats it away.

"Nice going, Eduardo!" Bloo shouts, "We were so close, and you just had to blow it! I've had it with you and all your Spanish! Why can't you ever speak some proper English for a change?"

"Lo siento, Azul," he says, shrinking in fear in spite of his larger size, "I know you really wanted to win."

Beyond frustrated, Bloo pinches the space between his eyes and turns away from him.

"Go. Just...just go, Ed."

Eduardo's face falls and tears well up in his eyes, but rather than starting to cry, he simply walks away.

Bloo sighs and turns to leave in the opposite direction, but he's stopped by an enormous Converse sneaker. He looks up to find both Frankie and Wilt looking down at him disapprovingly.

"Bloo, what on Earth was that back there?" Frankie asks, appalled.

"I'm sorry, but I have to agree," Wilt accuses pointedly, "that really wasn't cool."

"What did I do?" the blue blob whines, crossing his arms, "it's not MY fault we lost."

"You think we care about some stupid game of trivia?" Frankie says, "you really hurt Eduardo's feelings, Bloo."

"I don't get it, is all," Bloo argues, "with as long as he's been living here, he should be a lot better at English."

"I remember when Eduardo first moved in," Wilt recalls, defensively, "If you think he's not good at English now, he didn't know a lick of English back then."

"It was really hard to get him to come out of his shell with such a huge language barrier to boot," Frankie says, "Trust us when we say that the English he does speak now is a massive improvement. You should give Eduardo a lot of credit for that; learning a second language is a lot harder than you think."

"Alright, I guess I'll apologize," Bloo scoffs, waving an arm dismissively, "But don't catch me learning any Spanish anytime soon."

Seeing that there was no way to convince the blue blob to change his mindset, Wilt and Frankie shake their heads and go their separate ways. Bloo very quickly forgets about the conversation, as there was another, much more important thing to get ready for: a house-wide picnic at the park.

Everyone somehow manages to squeeze themselves on the bus, and soon they take off to pick up Mac from school, whom luckily enough had a half-day, so he could join in too. (And sleep over for the weekend! Bloo was so excited!)

They stop at the front of the school right as the bell rings. The doors open as a flurry of children run in multitudes of directions. Bloo opens his window near the front of the bus, leaning out to look for Mac in the crowd.

He puts a hand to his mouth and sends out a whistle that flies across the courtyard. A mop of familiar brown hair turns to face him, and he waves as Mac dashes towards the bus.

The boy and his creation crash into each other as the bus doors open and Mac flies through. They laugh and joke as the bus pulls away from the sidewalk and finally begins its journey to the park.

Mac turns in his seat to say hello to his other friends, and notices Eduardo staring out the window solemnly.

"Hey Bloo," he asks, "what's wrong with Eduardo?"

The blue blob turns in the same direction and rolls his eyes. "Don't worry about it, Mac," he says, "He's just being a big baby because I yelled at him a little."

The boy's head snaps around to face him, "Why the heck would you do that, Bloo?"

"I was THIS close," Bloo hisses, pinching two fingers agonizingly close to each other without touching, "to finally winning Madame Foster's Friday Morning Breakfast Trivia, and Eduardo just HAD to shout the final answer in Spanish. We lost, no thanks to him."

"Is that really worth being mad at him though?" Mac questions.

"YES!" Bloo exclaims, grabbing his creator by the front of his shirt, "When the winning prize is first dibs on Madame Foster's monthly batch of chocolate chip muffins!"

"That's no excuse." Mac frowns, "I want you to apologize to him."

"Mac, not you too!" Bloo whines, sagging in his seat.

"Yes, me too," Mac says, crossing his arms.

"You're like the third person to get on my case about it today," Bloo says, "What's so great about Spanish, anyway?"

"That a LOT of people speak it," Mac responds, "In fact, it's the second most spoken language in the United States. Who knows? In the future, there might be more Spanish speakers in the U.S. than English."

"Great, just what I need," Bloo groans, "MORE Spanish."

"If you took at least some time out of your day to acknowledge that the world doesn't revolve around you," Mac says,"You'll realize that Spanish isn't as bad as you think it is. You could even learn a thing or two from it."

An idea seems to pop into the boy's head.

"That reminds me!" Mac takes off his backpack to open it and dig through it's contents. He takes out a sheet of paper with lots of writing on it, the most prolific mark on it being a bright red A+. He leans over the edge of his seat to wave the paper in front of Eduardo.

"Hey Eduardo, I aced that Spanish test!" Mac says," Thanks SO much for helping me study; I would've flunked hard if it weren't for you."

Hearing that seems to cheer Eduardo up, because he starts grinning from ear to ear.

"Maravilloso!" Eduardo smiles, "I knew you could do it!"

"What'd I tell you, Mac?" Frankie calls to him from the driver's seat, "Eduardo is THE go-to guy for help in Spanish. I swear, I probably would have had to repeat the 11th grade if it weren't for him."

Seeing Eduardo smiling again is enough for Mac to sit back down in his seat.

"I still want you to apologize," Mac whispers to Bloo, stuffing his test back into his backpack, "sometime TODAY, please."

"Fine! I'm gonna!" Bloo whines, "Just quit nagging me about it."

Soon enough, the bus reaches its destination. All sorts of Imaginary Friends run off into their favored friend groups and enjoy all sorts of lawn games and delicious food. Bloo decides to spend most of that time with Mac, catching frogs and turtles by the edge of the pond and starting a massive water balloon fight, to Mr. Herriman's chagrin. Almost instantly, the morning's troubles seemed to just disappear from his mind.

The hours seem to fly by, and pretty soon it was almost time to pack up and go home.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

The blue blob hesitates from stuffing an entire slice of pie into his mouth.

"Am I? What?" he asks.

"I thought you were going to apologize to Eduardo." says Mac, drinking from a can of soda (sugar free, of course), "You can do it right now. He's right over there, see?"

Bloo turns around to find Eduardo picking flowers a ways across the field underneath a large tree, without a care in the world.

"Why do I still have to apologize?" Bloo asks, "He probably forgot all about it by now."

"Because it's the right thing to do," Mac responds, crossing his arms, "You don't even need to make a big scene out of it. Just go over there, apologize, and be done with it. Admitting you were wrong isn't the end of the - "

Mac stops. He seems to notice something going on across the field.

"Who's that man over there with Eduardo?"

Bloo turns back around to find out what Mac meant. Sure enough, some strange man was standing underneath the tree with Eduardo. The conversation seemed to be going fine at first, but it suddenly takes a turn.

The man takes an aggressive stance, and soon enough, he's practically yelling so loud that everyone around them could hear it. While Bloo was too far away to decipher what was being said, it was quite clear that it wasn't anything nice.

Eduardo's reaction is immediate. He recoils in fear and clings to the tree like his life depended on it, digging into the trunk so hard bits of bark were chipping off. The man somehow takes this as an opportunity to step even closer to the Imaginary Friend and shout at him some more.

By this point Eduardo's crying, completely terrified of the man attacking him. Even though he was more than strong enough to beat the guy into next week, it was never in his nature.

So instead, he cries loud enough for everyone to hear:

"¡Déjame en paz!"

Oh no. This was bad.

Eduardo's English was clumsy at best on a good day, but everyone at Foster's knew that all comprehension of the English language just seemed to fly out the window whenever he was extremely upset. Nobody could really figure out why, but it was as if his brain simply refused to process any English whatsoever whenever he was like this.

Seeing it on full display was an awful sight. And it only seemed to make the man verbally assaulting him even angrier.

Bloo had seen enough.

Before he even knows what he's doing, and before anyone at the picnic table can stop him, he jumps from his seat and sprints across the field, without even realizing he still had the pie in his hand.

Getting closer to the confrontation, Bloo is able to hear some of what the man was yelling at Eduardo.

"I've had it with these illegal aliens; crossing the border, stealing our jobs." the man shouts, "And then their little anchor babies create Imaginary freaks like you than can't speak any English! This country's gone to the pits because of people like you!"

Bloo reaches the tree and steps in between the man and Eduardo, preventing the stranger from getting any closer.

"Hey pal!" Bloo shouts, pointing up at the man's chest, "What part of 'leave him alone' can't you understand?"

The man looks down at him dismissively. "You're his friend?" He asks, "I doubt it if he can't speak any English."

"Yes I am," the blue blob replies, defensively, "And while he isn't the best at English, he definitely tries his best! Meanwhile the only thing you seem to be fluent in is Bigoted and Stupid!"

The man's face scrunches up into a grimace.

"Great, look at what YOU'VE caused," the man says to Eduardo, who hides behind the tree even further,"if you just spoke some English like I asked, we wouldn't of had to drag other people into this!"

"You want some English?" Bloo asks, "Here's some English for ya: BACK OFF!"

Bloo kicks the man's shin as hard as he can. The man drops to one knee in pain, holding his already bruising shin with one hand, reaching for the blue blob with the other.

"Why you little - "

Bloo throws his pie right into the man's face, the force causing him to fall over onto his side, dazed, confused and out for the count.

Breathing heavily due to the adrenaline, Bloo stands over the man for a moment or two. Remembering who he was here for, he turns around to face Eduardo.

The larger Imaginary Friend is shaking in his boots, but at least he's let go of the tree. They stare at each other for a moment, the both of them still shell-shocked from the situation that just happened.

Bloo is the first to snap out of it. He crosses the distance between them and grabs Eduardo by the wrist, tugging him along gently. Eduardo doesn't resist, but remains silent as they walk away.

"C'mon, Ed. Let's get out of here."

The bus ride home is eerily silent. Nobody says a word to each other even as they arrive home, eat dinner, and get ready for bed.

Bloo feels a pit in his stomach as he brushes his teeth that night. Ever since it happened, the events of that afternoon were repeating itself in his mind, and it only made him feel worse. Bloo really didn't get why; he had done a good thing, so why did he still feel bad about it?

Why can't you ever speak some proper English for a change?

Oh yeah. That.

"I really screwed up today, didn't I?"

Mac takes his toothbrush out of his mouth and looks at him questioningly.

"I don't think Mr. Herriman is mad at you for what happened at the picnic." he says,"Everyone saw what happened."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Bloo sighs,"This morning, I was really close to sounding a lot like that jerk at the park, and I guess I realize now why you guys were upset with me."

He looks down into the drain of the sink.

"How on earth can I make it up to Ed?"

"Giving that racist a taste of his own medicine and getting Eduardo out of there was a pretty good start," Mac replies, "But I think we both know how you can fix this."

Mac jumps down from the sink and walks out of the bathroom.

"See you in the morning."

Bloo stares at himself in the mirror for a long time, realizing what Mac was saying. He hated it when Mac was right.

Walking into his room he finds that everyone else looked like they were already in bed. Bloo sighs; maybe he had waited too long to apologize. He climbs into bed and looks up at the bent mattress that Eduardo was laying on. So many thoughts were buzzing in his mind he feels like he was never going to get any sleep unless he tries saying something. Better now than never, right?

"Hey, Eduardo?" Bloo whispers, "You still awake?"

It's silent for a long moment, and Bloo begins to think that Eduardo was already asleep, but then the mattress creaks as the weight on it shifts a little.

"Si." Eduardo says.

"Look, about this morning..." Bloo starts, but falters, trying to figure out his words.

"I...I'm..."

He sighs, frustrated. Just spit it out already!

"Lo siento."

Bloo is taken aback by his own words. Did he just apologize in Spanish? That probably meant a lot more coming from him, considering everything that's happened today.

The room once more falls into silence. Bloo starts to wonder if the words he's said were too little, too late.

Suddenly, a large shape reaches down into Bloo's bed and grabs hold of him, yanking him up...

...into a great big hug!

Bloo feels like he's being squeezed so hard that his soul is leaving his body.

"Too tight, Ed, too tight!" the blue blob chokes, frantically tapping the larger Friend's arm. Thankfully, Eduardo loosens up and Bloo gasps a large breath of air.

"Aw jeez, Eduardo," he groans, "Enough with the waterworks, you're gonna get me all wet!"

"I wanted to say gracias," Eduardo sniffs, "Thank you for getting that mean man to go away."

"I had to make it up to you somehow," Bloo says, "You probably have to deal with enough jerks like that just for speaking Spanish. The last thing you need is crap like that from your own friends. Those muffins weren't worth being mad at you like that. They go stale after like one day anyways."

"You es a bueno amigo," Eduardo laughs, "When you es not a big meanie that es."

"What can I say?" Bloo smirks, "I'm the jerk of this friend group, nobody else! So if someone bothers you like that again, tell me, alright? I'll kick 'em into next week!"

Eduardo squeezes him again a little too tight for comfort, but Bloo decided not to complain. Eduardo had been though enough for one day; it wouldn't hurt to at least let him have this.

Bloo came to realize that while he might never fully understand Eduardo at times, he knew now that sometimes, friendship didn't need a language.

Perhaps, that's what made theirs so great.

THE END

[oh-boleyn]

catherine / infamy

words: 5733, one shot, language: english

anne / jane /  katherine / catherine

this was posted on ao3 some days ago and I have been since debating to post it here or not. except for this series I will stop posting here probably, and just move to my ao3

TW: I think this one only has as tw Catherine's story (kidnapping, dying in childbirth, etc) plus self deprication... if anyone thinks this one needs more tw please tell me 

the commentary between scenes are things I got from internet about Catherine Parr

Catherine Parr will always be known as the queen who got away.

(…)

Her breath is heavy, the air denser than it should be.

But it slowly gets better, to the point she opens her eyes and the light doesn’t hurt. Sitting, she can recognize Katherine Howard, the girl for who she was a lady-in-waiting. Anna of Cleves is also sitting, a lost expression on her face. A woman with blonde hair that makes her think of the various portraits she saw in the palace. Just by counting the people in the room, she can easily assume who the rest of them are.

After all, she was the last of them.

(…)

Catherine’s father died when she was five years old and so her education was left to her mother, who educated Catherine to a high standard. 

(…)

Catherine never loved moving.

Usually she got too attached to a place, and changes were definitely not her favourite thing.

(Moving centuries felt like a torture – not that she would ever admit it out loud.)

Their new house was small, smaller than any castle she ever lived in. She had to share a bedroom with her godmother with whom she never had a relationship, and the third queen, mother of the kid she saw getting the crown.

Sometimes at night the house made her think of Snape Castle. Of nights fearing for her life. Being the survivor didn’t mean her life was any easier. Those nights she preferred to avoid sleeping in case the faces of John and Margaret might appear in her dreams.

Instead she would just scroll through articles and articles on her phone, trying to understand any actual device that was out to the public, or what did spot on meant. At least being productive made her feel less useless. After years of new information missed, she could really use new research.

(…)

Sometimes alternatively spelled Katherine, Katheryn, Kateryn or Katharine.

(…)

Catherine can’t help but feel powerless when thinking about Katherine Howard.

She was just a child. A teen, who Catherine couldn’t save. Her mind didn’t work fast enough to help the girl, who died such a tragic, grotesque death, leaving Parr her place as queen. Maybe if Parr was smart enough, she could’ve done something else.

But she wasn’t.

She loved to lie, to make everyone believe her, but deep down she knew nothing more than that, a lie. An elaborated act that took years to construct. A character, a fake line, an improvised scene that went day after day. Because Catherine didn’t think of herself as intelligent, just a very good actress, fooling everyone into thinking she was smart.

She wished it was true.

Instead she had to live with the guilt of knowing what she did. She was not the hero, not the survivor, not the scholar queen.

Catherine Parr was a fool who couldn’t save Howard, nor Margaret, nor Elizabeth, nor Lady Jane Grey. Her hands were filled with the blood and tears of all the girls at her care; she never had the chance to rescue, instead just assisting to their downfall. And her mind won’t stop her from repeating the names time and time again.

(…)

Catherine was known for her love of learning and for her fluency in languages such as Latin, French and Italian.

(…)

“What do you want to know?” The last queen questions.

Her godmother had been moving the whole night, buzzing around her. It was almost becoming annoying, except that there was a warmness, an incapability of getting mad knowing how close her mother and the woman once were.

“What makes you think I want to know something?” Aragon retorts.

“You seem nervous, if you want to know something just ask ahead. I won’t get mad.”

She internally prays for Aragon not to ask her something about Spanish, or worse, Latin or Italian. Languages felt more complicated and overwhelming in the twenty-first century, featuring strange mixes between them.

(Apparently, Spanglish was a thing.)

She is not sure if any other question would be good, at all. Catherine is supposed to know all the answers, to be educated, to distinguish, to be useful. Since arriving in this century her mind has been confused, mixing up languages and dates. Blocked, broken.

“Curiosity is not such a good trait.” The older woman speaks, almost robotically, just repeating words she probably heard time and time again.

Catherine would be lying if she said that was the first time she heard those words. Her curiosity was not exactly an attribute in her past life, but she maintained it through the end of her days, always looking forward to learning. A craving for intelligence heavier than the one for safety.

“It’s alright, really.”

“What happened when I died?”

The question comes out quickly, making Parr hold a breath.

“When you died…” She starts, trying to remember only important details. “Anne and Henry were still married, but she lost the pregnancy. She had three miscarriages. You can imagine how Henry reacted.”

Catherine nods, aware of Anne’s thick scar.

“Jane went next. I can’t remember a lot from her reign, for it was short and I wasn’t at court at the time,” she winces, trying not to show her stiffness when talking about it, “Henry asked for her to be painted in every family portrait, even after she died. He really tried to secure the line of succession for Edward, what a shame he died so young. In his attempts to have another son, Henry married Anna. She wasn’t bad, just probably a lot for him to handle.”

“She seems like a lot.” Catherine speaks, judging tone in her voice.

“Don’t say that, she is actually sweet. Henry couldn’t kill her, politics involved, so they settled for an annulment. Then Katherine came. She was naïve, a child. I was a lady-in-waiting for her, and it is true she might have been childish, but she was –is, I suppose– a good person.”

“I feel like all of them know more than me,” Aragon explains, “but I don’t want to read about them, it’s like invading their privacy.”

“I did. Most sources are from after we died, none of them completely true.” Catherine admits. “We should be able to tell our story.”

“We should.”

(…)

Catherine is known for reuniting Henry’s children with their father and bringing them back to court. 

(…)

The opening night for the show is nerve-wracking to say the least.

Anna almost cursed at Catherine because, after all, it was her idea. Parr stays silent, knowing that the fourth queen is nervous to her very core. She also knows that the show has to be done.

They could only live off doing interviews for some time. She learnt that the internet worked in mysterious ways, and nothing stayed new for too long. People grew tired, and interviews were less and less often.

But after the play, it feels right. Even her godmother is smiling, her own reluctance to create the play long forgotten. People cheer around them, the band still firm on their spots but clapping their hands.

For a moment it feels good to be in the spotlight.

(…)

Catherine was an attractive and intelligent woman, who combined the intelligence and wit of Anne Boleyn with the prudence and diplomacy of Catherine of Aragon.

(…)

“Anne, wake up.”

Boleyn opens her eyes. Her hands were still holding her phone. That little technological device that holds so much information about everything. Catherine wonders what she was doing, what could have been so important that she didn’t go to bed.

“You should go to your room, Kat and Anna might be waiting for you.” She says with a soft voice, trying not to wake anyone else in the house.

The second queen has big, bright green eyes. There is a sparkle of wit that Catherine can’t shake her head off. She looks like Elizabeth, the same curiosity shining through. The way she carries herself, as if she still was the queen. The secrecy, how every word holds another meaning.

Anne stood up, going to her bedroom.

“Goodnight Anne.”

“Night, Parr.”

Elizabeth is dead, and they aren’t. Catherine never had a chance to amend their problems, instead she died. Never getting to see Elizabeth as queen was going to be something she would always regret.

The internet said she was a great queen, and it didn’t surprise Parr at all.

(…)

Elizabeth was won over by Catherine’s warmth and intelligence.

(…)

Catherine Parr was never a protagonist, and she prided herself on it. Being a writer was more important to her. Narrators lived long enough to tell the heroes stories. She was observant. Silent, but good at knowing all the gossip. Being invisible was an advantage, it could keep you alive.

(That is if you didn’t die because of childbirth, obviously.)

Even in the play, she made it known. Her make-up in earthly tones, and she wears a blue costume. Blue was serene, trying not to be noticed. She didn’t talk as much as the other queens, relegating her story just to her last verses.

Catherine Parr was a narrator, not a protagonist, and she was aware of it.

That was why, when watching the queens, she felt so inclined to give them as much attention as she could. Catherine wouldn’t write their stories, that would be not okay if she tried to keep the fake peace that reigned the house, but she could surely find striking inspiration at any moment.

She discovered that none of them were having the best time in their new lives. They didn’t treat it as a brand-new chance to be happy, instead they were bonded to the past, to their own time. It felt like whatever brought them back just did it so they could act as robots half of the time, not trusting each other to talk seriously for more than a couple of minutes.

Catherine wonders if the other queens also notice how much she is struggling.

(…)

However, the quick-thinking Catherine Parr managed to save her head by pleading with Henry and persuading him that she had only argued with him in an attempt to help him forget about the pain caused by his leg ulcer and to learn from him.

Henry forgave her.

(…)

They move. Again. She knows it’s for the better, but she can’t help feeling weirded out by the new house. At least it allows them each to have a room of their own, a privacy she certainly craved.

She takes the basement, which is the colder room in the house. It feels comfortable, after all the years of living in palaces makes you feel that way about cold, big rooms. Her bed, even if it is double size, doesn’t fill more than a quarter of the room, leaving her space for a big desk and a bookshelf.

Catherine counts all the books once before starting packing, twice after saving them and another time as soon as she arrives. The feeling that she probably lost one doesn’t disappear, even if she doesn’t know what book she lost.

(Maybe because most of her books are destroyed after five hundred years of not caring for them.

Not like those books are useful anymore.)

(…)

According to Foxe, she began “frankly to debate with the king touching religion, and therein flatly to discover herself; oftentimes wishing, exhorting, and persuading the king.”

(…)

Doing research is exhausting to say the least.

The bright white screen makes her eyes ache after watching it for a while, and her hands don’t work quickly on the keyboard. She can’t even write as fast as she could in her old life, her letters clumsy and often having problems with gripping the new pens.

What makes it the worst, is that she feels so stupid when trying to do it. Languages vary when time progresses, that much she always knew, but trying to read an article sometimes becomes impossible, with words such as quantum entanglement or Newtonian physics. It infuriates her, not being able to understand.

Once upon a time she knew it all, about God, history, languages. But now it felt as if her brain just stopped working. Everything went faster than she could, leaving her behind, useless to a new world into which she never asked to be brought.

Sometimes she hates modernism and its complexity.

Still, Catherine puts on an act every day, talking about penicillin and ibuprofen, explaining history to Anna and focusing on appearing smart. Because, after all, that was all she ever knew. All she ever had was owned for being smart, to know how to play a King’s game, and getting away with it.

If she wasn’t smart, she was nothing.

(…)

Catherine certainly believed herself to be in danger and, had she not acted decisively, it is likely that Henry would have allowed her to be arrested and, perhaps, executed.

(…)

“Cathy, por favor, ayúdame con esto.” Her godmother asks, while going through some files. “I know you were good at Spanish.”

Parr holds a breath. She once could speak it fluently, but lately it’s pained her into having problems with it.

“I was reading this book, and wondered if della and del were still being used? Or is it old Spanish?”

Catherine didn’t know the answer at all. How was she supposed to? If she could barely understand it. She wanted to scream, to explain that she had no actual clue. She wanted to pull away her façade of being smart and just admitting that it was too hard for her.

“I think it’s safer to use de la instead of a contracción.” Cathy says, praying to be right.

“Gracias querida.” Aragon winks at her.

Parr was really hoping she was right.

(…)

Catherine Parr - The Scholar Queen.

(…)

Catherine was a writer, she even went as far as publishing books under her name, the name of a queen, in a patriarchal society.

Catherine Parr was a writer because it was all she had ever done. Every reason why she wanted to be remembered was because she was a writer. She didn’t care about her husbands, not even Thomas who she truly thought she loved. She didn’t want to be remembered as a queen, only as a writer.

(She sometimes thought that if being a writer was enough for her, in that case, she would’ve lived longer, but of course she needed to have a man in her life.)

Talking about her past as a writer gave her the peace of mind she didn’t have for standing behind men her whole life.

Behind a great man, there is always a great woman.

Except that she was behind John Neville, a distant catholic cousin who’s actions ended up with her being kidnapped; Henry the VIII, an egomaniac poor excuse of king who got as far as killing two of his wives (almost her killed too); and last but not least, Thomas Seymour, a power starved moron.

Was she just like them? Was she the only one guilty of her past life? An egomaniac who couldn’t save Katherine Howard? A power-starved former queen who let harm come to her most loved stepdaughter? Or just a moron who couldn’t protect anyone, not even herself?

Catherine was a writer, because thinking about her own mistakes was harder than just doing what she always did, telling other people’s ones.

(…)

Catherine Parr was in fact the cleverest and most passionate of Henry VIII's six wives, says Derek Wilson.

(…)

Catherine wasn’t a big fan of the rain.

She didn’t mind it, and enjoyed the sounds of the water drops when she was writing, but being in closed spaces sometimes became too much, too claustrophobic. She loved walking just a little every day, going to the theatre in the afternoon or to the grocery shop, but with the weather it wasn’t possible.

Usually on days like that she would just get herself isolated from the queens, her anxiety building up as she tried to behave and not explode. Try to pass as if she doesn’t even exist, guarding her feelings and nerves to herself.

She told the queens she would be writing in her room, and to just call her when it was time to eat. No one checked up on her. No one gave her tea, or coffee. Even when the clock hit the time for dinner –she had been staring at it for the last five minutes, hyper aware of the time being–, they called her up three minutes and fifty-two seconds later than what she would have liked.

(…)

In her will, dated 23 March 1545, Margaret stated that she was unable to render Catherine sufficient thanks 'for the godly education and tender love and bountiful goodness which I have evermore found in her Highness'.

(…)

It feels harder on her than the rest of the queens. The feeling of not belonging, of not understanding. Even with Jane their relationship is not close — not that it can be, the third queen always storming off or barely talking.

She feels like an outsider, not knowing where she is standing.

Catherine has always been cordial, but there’s a thought in the back of her mind that says that it is only out of duty. Of an old debt to her mother, and not real love. Even after long talks over tea, and trips to the mall, Cathy feels that their relationship is still empty. Out of place, fake.

Parr can’t help but dream about feeling loved again, truly loved, something that she has not known for a long time. But it scares her, Margaret ended up dying young, Elizabeth had to suffer, Jane Grey had a horrible death.

Maybe she didn’t need their love, because each time someone loved her, they ended up dead.

(…)

Catherine enjoyed a close relationship with Henry's three children and was personally involved in the education of Elizabeth I and Edward VI.

(…)

She enters the kitchen, just to see Anne and Anna with an apple pie in the middle of the table.

“I want pie.” She states.

“Magic word?” Anne teases her, a smirk on her lips.

“Je t'aime beau cul.”

Boleyn laughs, in a way that it makes her stomach turn. It’s mocking, clearly not laughing with Catherine, but rather at her.

“What? What did I say wrong?”

“You pronounced the last part wrong, it’s beaucoup, no beau cul.”

Catherine can feel her face turning red, almost burning. Of course, she was going to mess up pronunciation after years without trying. Now Anne was mocking her, and she felt ridiculed, uncomfortable.

“Why is it so funny?” Anna interrupts, maybe picking up the humiliating situation, “she just messed up pronunciation, it’s not that bad.”

“Instead of saying ‘I love you so much’ she said “I love you, nice ass’.”

Parr chuckles painfully, dreading Anna’s giggling.

“Don’t worry, mon petit chou.” Anne grabs a plate and settles a slice of the pie. “A sweet, for a sweetheart.”

She winks an eye to Parr, easing the air around the writer.

(…)

The dowager queen promised to provide education for her.

(…)

Catherine tries to get it out, to calm herself down after a nightmare.

She takes some paper and a pen, even though it feels uncomfortable in her hand, and tries to write about it. Catherine forces the memories on her brain. Attempts to remember every detail, the face of fear Margaret held, frustrating not to confuse it with the face of the girl dying. Parr thinks of John, of the aggressive men he became.

And she writes messy and clumsy letters, focusing only on what she has to say and not how she says it. Working hard distracts her for almost the whole night, finishing with a good amount of paper in possession, and her hand smeared with ink.

Catherine considers reading it, but ultimately decides against it, walking to the kitchen as fast as she can.

She lets it burn, page by page, word by word. Parr lets it burn as if she never cared for it, something so personal that it won’t be good for even her to read. She knows that the queens will ask the next day, but she can’t help herself to care. She lets it burn.

(…)

She loved fine clothes, jewels and intelligent company.

(…)

Catherine wishes she had a real idea of when to stop, but apparently, she wasn’t born with it.

Most of the time, the queens won’t shush her, instead acting as if they hear what she has to say. Acting being the key word. Once Cathy was so into her monologue, she would discover how uninterested her eyes looked, wandering around the room and just humming in response instead of talking actual real words. In that moment she would try to cut herself short, wrap the idea quicker than expected.

Anna would try to keep up, being amicable enough, but the inadequacy was something the survivor couldn’t shake off. Even when the fourth queen tries to talk, Cathy will already anticipate the truth. She pitied her, knowing how her life was and ended, and it was just a way to show it. She pushed Anna away, not telling her any weird facts. She didn’t want to be a poor fool.

(…)

In 1543, she published her first book, Psalms or Prayers, anonymously.

(…)

“I’m just… so afraid to talk sometimes.”

Catherine thought that, but the words didn’t come out of her mouth, but rather from Boleyn’s.

“I got killed for that, and I can’t help it. I feel like I need to control everything.”

“But you don’t.” Parr confirms. “Also, you can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can control yourself, with whom you hang out, you can control things such as the tone of your words, but if someone wants to hate you, they will. You can’t control nature, not yours, nor from others.” Catherine ponders.

She wishes that she could follow her own advice, but it’s hard. That doesn’t mean that Catherine is not hoping for Anne to do so, to be happier than she is. Maybe that if she can help the woman, Parr can redeem herself.

“Thank you, I think I needed to hear it.” The green-eyed talks.

“Don’t worry, I’m here for you.”

She brushes off the guilt of being egoistic that tries to settle on her mind.

 (…)

According to biographer Linda Porter, the story that as a child, Catherine could not tolerate sewing and often said to her mother "my hands are ordained to touch crowns and sceptres, not spindles and needles" is almost certainly apocryphal.

(…)

Catherine wants to give up writing, knowing that it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Everything is too personal, too old, too weird. Old languages long forgotten mixing with new ones, words that haven’t existed before now complicated to use.

Apparently, Shakespeare by himself invented around a thousand seven hundred words. Just by one person.

The idea of the new vocabulary overwhelms her mind. So much she doesn’t know and is not sure if she ever will. But a part of her longs for it, for the feeling of release that writing could sometimes bring. Catherine has faith about being able to be valuable, to tell stories, to do good, to give something to the world.

Parr decides to just take her time, to write as best as she can. She can’t do more than her best.

(…)

Between October 1536 and April 1537, Catherine lived alone in fear with her step-children, struggling to survive.

(…)

“Are you okay, Catherine?” Kat asks.

It was her third attempt at it. Nothing she wrote felt right. There was just so much missed, so much to do. She couldn’t focus on the paragraphs.

“Yes, just can’t seem to get this done.” She straightens her spine.

Did always sitting hurt as much?

“What is it about?” The teenager wonders.

“Just about Spain history, and the colonies.”

“Can I read?”

“Yes. I will make tea.” Parr handles the computer to the girl.

She stretches her spine and goes around preparing the drink.

Catherine is not sure if she would let any other queen read what she wrote. Katherine is different, had always been. Even in her time as queen, even when it all happened. She was smart, but not outspoken. Polite yet truthful.

“It is good, really.” Howard says.

“I can sense a “but”.” Catherine laughs anxiously, dreading the critic.

“You are only taking one side; you should know how Spain sent a lot of people from the church on missions to re-educate the natives. Las misiones Jesuitas. Politics and religion were more connected than what this made it look like.”

“That’s… Very true.” She feels bad about not emphasising it as much but brushes it off for the sake of the conversation. “I didn’t know you were interested in history. It’s great,” she insists when Katherine looks at her with big eyes, “if you ever want to work together, you know where to find me.”

(…)

Her second book was a success and widely praised.

(…)

Organizing was never her favourite thing to do. She loved to be messy, scattered paper all around her. Pens out, in the most unexpected places, just in case creativity strikes unexpectedly. The way her manuscripts could look so good, better now that she gave herself time to practice her letters surprised when people saw the chaos in the one she wrote.

Jane was the opposite, neat, having high expectations of finding whatever she left in the place she left it. She was exigent, hard on herself to be organized, in places where Catherine couldn’t care less. That was until everything became way too much and she had to just clean a little. Parr admired Jane, appreciated how much she did, how smart and balanced she had learned to become.

With her papers settled, her pens saved, she gives a look at her room. It feels quiet, harmonized.

(…)

The popular myth that Catherine Parr acted more as her husband's nurse than his wife was born in the 19th century from the work of Victorian moralist and proto-feminist, Agnes Strickland.

(…)

Someone knocks the door to her room twice, and Catherine gets surprised. Almost nobody came to her room, it being almost the farthest one from the rest of the queens. She also never gave any indication of having nightmares like Katherine, so no one would check on her.

“Come in!” She says, despite her wonder.

“Hey there.” Aragon greets. “I just got Kat to sleep.”

“Another nightmare?”

“Yes, but those are getting better, I think. Therapy is helping.” She explains. “But I wanted to check on you.”

Catherine makes room for her in the bed, which she quickly understands. The divorcee sits in the bed, and the survivor wraps herself, getting comfortable in the hug. It’s familiar, an old memory from court in a past life, but a good one. A peaceful, tranquil moment before knowing better.

“Oh, hermosa.” The first queen squeezes her goddaughter. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just… so tired.” She confesses.

She doesn’t precisely know of what she is tired. The intrusive thoughts of hundreds of years, Thomas and how she was a fool. Of hiding her silliness, trying to be better, always better, but never reaching an end. She is tired of feeling bad, of feeling locked into her own expectations. She feels tired of trying to be happier, to be smarter, to be liked.

And there are so many feelings that she just breaks, sobbing into her namesake’s arms.

“Even geniuses need sleep, amor.”

“Don’t call me that.” Cathy bickers.

“Call you what?”

“A genius. I’m not.” She cries. “I want to be dumb; I want to stop overthinking for a second. I’m not smart, I promise you I’m not but please stop expecting things from me I can’t be a disappointment.”

“Mi vida.”

Aragon makes a pattern on her back, trying to soothe her. It doesn’t precisely work, instead she just continues sobbing, letting lots of tears that she has saved for such a long time flow freely. She sniffles out of pure frustration, of having so many thoughts that she can’t even process them.

“I love you, so much.” She affirms. “You have literally blown me away. I know I might not say a lot, but you were always special, since you were little.”

“Don’t say that, I don’t want to be.”

“But you are, and you have surpassed all my expectations, always. You can breathe now; you get to take a break.” She kisses her forehead. “I love you, and would still love you if you are the smartest person in the world or the stupidest. You are so smart, you don’t have to always stick out, or be good at everything. You deserve to just fool around sometimes, and that won’t change who you are.”

When Cathy collects the courage to look her in the eyes, she can swear that there’s a sparkle of pure love and affection in the eyes of her godmother. A sparkle directed at her.

(…)

Biographers have described her as strong-willed and outspoken, physically desirable, susceptible (like Queen Elizabeth) to roguish charm and even willing to resort to obscene language if the occasion suited.

(…)

She doesn’t know how, but something in the air feels lighter, it feels better. Life becomes easier, the house now slowly becoming a home, with the six queens slowly getting better. Catherine can notice how much cooler it turns out to be once they started learning more about each other, understanding something no one else would.

(After all, nobody else was a five hundred years old reincarnated Tudor queen.)

Parr wishes for it to mean that she could live her life relaxed, joyful. But instead she cries every time she notices how lucky she was, the guilt of knowing that she hurt so many people she cared for. A heavy backpack she won’t ever be able to get out.

She doesn’t think that she deserves forgiveness for her acts. And it pains her, hoping for a reality where she was good, for one where she was just the survivor, to one not full with the tragedy her life was.

Each time she says gold star for Cathy Parr, she feels numb. With a bit of luck, she convinced the audience she merits it.

(…)

Catherine's good sense, moral rectitude, compassion, firm religious commitment and strong sense of loyalty and devotion have earned her many admirers among historians.

(…)

There is a silence, and for a moment they stay like that. But the survivor speaks up: “Did you love him?”

“Yes.” Anne states easily. “Or no. I probably didn’t, and he most certainly didn’t either, but I think we both believed we did.”

“Do you love him?”

“No, do you?”

“Never did.”

“Be careful, your neck is quite delicate… I don’t think it would be hard to cut with a sword.”

Catherine tries to mask her thoughts, releasing a faint “Funny.”

Anne probably doesn’t know; she is aware of it. With all the fake comments about the second queen that were a lie, she had decided to not look for much information about her fellow queens, and Catherine was not willing to tell her about how her life nearly ended. It felt selfish, it was just a close call, not a real one like Anne’s or Katherine’s. Still, the idea of her head being amputated from her body followed her, like the ghost of a broken promise. The thought of her life in danger of ending still at the back of her mind.

“Did she love me?” Anne asks, surprising Parr.

“I think she did.” Catherine waits for a moment, before continuing. “I’m sorry for what I did to her.”

With those words she breaks down, trying to hide her tears. She has no right to cry for her own wicked acts, to be comforted by Anne, but that’s what is happening now.

“It’s fine.” Boleyn says, her voice just above a whisper. “I forgive you. She forgave you. We were different people back then.”

“But I did it. No matter what you say, I did it.”

“And I wasn’t an angel either. I acted the wrong way because of my fears. To gain and maintain power. I’m not proud of it,” her eyes, that until that moment were lost, now staring intensely Catherine, “but if you keep living in the past you can’t become a better person in the future.”

(…)

Parr is usually portrayed in cinema and television by actresses who are much older than the queen, who was in her early 30s when she was Henry's wife and was about 36 years old at the time of her death.

(…)

Catherine wished her story was better, for it to have a happy ending. To say that she married Thomas after Henry, and that it was like a dream, that they had children and grandchildren, grew old together and she was loved until the end of her days. She longed to say that she could remember her baby's face, or her first steps or words. Desires to tell everyone that she taught her everything she knew. But in reality, it was not true.

Catherine Parr never had her happily ever after like a queen from a children’s book.

The survivor indeed never had her happy ending, not even when coming back to the modern times. She still put more pressure on herself than what she should've. Tried to always be trusted, to always be useful and to help her everyone. Pushed herself to the edge, trying to be the best version of herself. Got more stressed than necessary, stayed up sometimes too late for her liking, drank more tea and coffee than she should’ve.

Her life became a bittersweet one, a balance found between her tragic story, the guilt she would always feel, and the chance of a new beginning.

Some days were happier than others, some talks were lighter. Freedom and restriction battling over, but giving her enough cheerfulness to go back when things got harder. Working with Katherine over the history they both knew and missed, discussing the newest scientific discoveries with Anna and Jane, grabbing lunch with Anne and tea with Aragon.

Her life was not happy, but it was relaxed. It gave her the chance to just let herself feel emotions, the good, the bad. To write without deadlines. To be calm, to live this new opportunity fully. To learn about herself, to be the protagonist of her own story.

To be loved.

[smoljoelito]

best friends with CNCO

requested by/request: one of my mutuals requested this but I can’t remember which one for sure I forgot to screenshot I think it was @quierick​ or @cloudfiveclub​ OOF sorry

warnings: fluff and language

masterlist

Series

richard camacho

erick brian colón

chris velez

joel pimentel

zabdiel de jesús

tags: @quierick @mepuserojito @ericks-mala-actitud @woowoodaaboo @ella-se-vuelve-loca @joelsaww @honeyzhong @sarswilltakeyouout​ @pimentelssmile @whippedforcnco​ @notsoteenagegirl @richukisbb​ @besosdecnco @emsy55 @cloudfiveclub @erickspretend1​ @hardtoadore @pretendcnco (join my taglist)

———————————————————————————————————

♢ Richard

Constantly making fun of you

Takes you grocery shopping

Makes sure you’re always feeling okay and checks in on you while on tour

Answers the phone like “Sup biiiiiitch!”

Aaliyah’s godmother

Shooting you with nerf guns

Receiving a punch in the gut every time he hits you in the head

Random wrestling matches on the floor

Him being shocked when you pin him down sometimes

Working out together

Starting kickboxing together

Likes to pick you up because you’re smol™

Gets mad when you tell him he’s also a shortie

Lots of swearing and dirty jokes from him

You’re pure so he gets slapped a lot

Protective like a brother oof you can’t have any boyfriend without his opinion

Asking you about songs he’s not sure about to make sure you like them

Helping him write music

Beatboxing while he raps has become a very popular thing with the fans on his Instagram story

Speaking Spanish with him but usually only when you’re mad/annoyed

Tries to dress you

You try to dress him

He has a key to your apartment so sometimes you’ll just come home and he’s chilling on the couch watching the soccer game

You’re like ? 

and he’s like hey how are you? Like it’s no big deal.

He tries to get you to be his wingman and get girls for him

Sometimes you actually do

He always points out girls in public

*eye roll*

but

If you point out a man it’s all “I will beat him if he steps even in your direction.”

Loving him unconditionally like family

♔ Erick

So many bad jokes

But good thing you somehow find bad jokes funny

You too will just about be pissing your pants at how funny you think Erick’s bad jokes are

Because they are that bad

Super open about his feelings/emotions with you

Telling you everything

“Hey y/n! Last night at a club this girl grinded on me and she did a really good job!”

“...OKAY?”

“Good morning, Y/N. I got really drunk last night and I just threw up, what’s good?”

Not being as protective

Actually tries to get you dates

“Hey Y/N, that guy is attractive!”

“Why don’t you go over there then?”

*Smack*

Lots of hitting when you’re annoyed

Lots of laughter

He steals your beanies and hats

You steal his hoodies

Sometimes you both dress each other

Making fun of him constantly

Getting protective when the other boys make fun of him

Only you’re allowed to make fun of him

Him making you laugh whenever need be

Lots of “checking up on you” texts

Practices singing in front of you

Always learns your favorite songs for when you have a bad day cause he’ll sing them and make you smile

Teaches you how to play guitar

Tries to teach you how to sing

Always his salsa buddy

Love him more than anyone else

☼ Chris

He plays too much

Always making fun of you

like every opportunity that comes

Your comebacks are epic though, which he loves

Laughing so hard together that you almost throw up

Fave memory is when you made Chris laugh so hard he DID throw up

Protective over you only when the guy is bigger than him

Always cracking jokes together

Cuddling!

All the guys love having you around cause you both literally light up the night with your smiles, jokes, and laughter

Chris buys you tickets to fly out to see him all the time

Steal his sunglasses and hats all the time

Acts like he cares but really doesn’t cause you wear them better than him

People ask if you’re married all the time

Going out to eat all the time to try new foods together

Chris singing to you when your sad which sometimes makes you cry harder cause it’s so pretty

Going clubbing all the time

Having flirting competitions with each other to make sure your game is as good as possible™

Playing pool with him

Making fun of him when he can’t get the 8 ball in

“You even have that bitch tattoed on your hand!”

Spanglish

Lots of swearing in Spanish

He also has a key to your house

but instead, you’ll come home and find him sitting on your kitchen counter eating a bag of chips

“You better put my favorite birthday cake Oreos down you little fucker.”

Sends you care boxes of different foods and items from really cool countries he goes too

Your fave: green tea Kit Kats from Japan

Somehow can find them in the US and gets them for you when you’re feeling down.

“Hey Y/N I wrote you a song, wanna hear it.”

“sure!”

*strums the guitar* “You’re a fucking bitch but I love youuuuu!”

A strong punch in the arm

*strums the guitar* “Now you see what I mean!”

(Courtesy of @erickspretend1) reenacting the “I love you biiiiitch, I aint ever gonna stop loving you biiiiitch” in public to make you embarrassed

Loving his dumbass too much

♡ Joel

Color coordination in public

Dressing each other

Stealing his rings, hats, and any other accessories

Lots of dad jokes

Lots of smol giggles™

You're his personal photographer

Asks you to paint his nails sometimes

Lots of Disney movies

Always get each other tickets to plays for each other’s bday’s

Broadway & Disney carpool karaoke

Go to see Ed Sheeran and Shawn Mendes in concert with him

Sing there albums in the car

Always finding an excuse to sing

“Joel, sweetie, your famous. You don’t need to show off your voice anymore.”

Avocado everything

Calling him hoe-el when he pisses you off

Having to stop every time he sees a dog to pet it

“We should get a dog!”

“You’re gone touring for like 9 months of the year! I’ll have to take care of it!”

Texting you tea all the time

FaceTime’s right before concerts just to say a quick hello

Having the boys help you surprise him and fly out to see him in concert

Sees you in the front row and is like a deer in headlights

“HI GUYS! MY BEST FRIEND FLEW OUT TO SEE ME AND SURPRISE ME! SHES THE BEST! Y/N GET YOUR ASS UP HERE!” 

Dancing with him on stage to Pretend cause he taught you the choreography 

The fans adoring your relationship

Lots of ice cream, cuddles, and love

✰ Zabdiel

A bit more of a quiet relationship

Calls you when he’s sad, anxious, or feeling off a lot

You always know the right thing to say to him and vice versa

Support each other immensely

Lots of late-night deep talks on FaceTime or like on a balcony if he’s home.

Lots of cuddling, especially when one of you isn’t happy

Uses you as a human sleeping bag and passes out on you all the time

“You’re so small!”

“You’re a tree! Tell me, is the air quality different up there? Maybe that’s why you say dumb shit cause you get light-headed.”

He’s chill, you’re not at all.

“Cálmete princesa!”

“It’s NOT that easy for me Zabdi!”

Using his height to your advantage and taking him grocery shopping.

“Could you get that please, Z?”

Helping you learn Spanish

Speaking/singing in Spanish to you when you’re anxious cause it calms you down for some reason

He sends coffee to your house sometimes when he’s on tour just the way you like it

Shows you pics of girls he thinks are cute all the time

Never lets you look at men

“You’re too good for him!”

“I just glanced at him! Do you know him?”

“No, but I am a man. His intentions are not good.”

Tries to hook you up with some of his friends.

Never works out.

Gives you hoodies before he leaves on tour

Buys you cute little things on tour and sends them to you

Surprises you at work sometimes when he gets a break from touring

Punching him in the arm after from making you cry in front of your coworkers

The boys fly you out sometimes when he’s having a rough week

Instantly his mood is back to normal

Lots of fluff, support, and love

[yeah-another-aesthetic-blog]

Goodbye to the Decade: Aesthetic Series

3) Songs

After the series and the books, in this week here are 9 fragments of songs that I liked this decade, since I know that there aren’t so many spanish speakers between you, here is a translation of what the central song says “If there is nothing left to talk about, if there is nothing left to shut up, how can it hurt so much?” is Diciembre by La Oreja De Van Gogh

Like the previous posts in the series a keep reading it’s here, because warning here is the full list of all the songs that I have from this decade, and when I say all of them I mean all of them.No Particular order in them. Congratulations if you make till the end, if not, well I can’t blame you xD

Mirrors by Justin Timberlake 2013

Radioactive by Imagine Dragons 2012

Demons by Imagine Dragons 2012

Counting Stars by OneRepublic 2013

Really Really by Winner 2017

Russian Roulette by Red Velvet 2016

Troublemaker by Troublemaker 2011

Mean by Taylor Swift 2010

Better Than Revenge by Taylor Swift 2010

We Are Never Getting Back Together by Taylor Swift 2012

I Knew You Were Trouble by Taylor Swift 2012

All Too Well by Taylor Swift 2012

Shake It Off by Taylor Swift 2014

Blank Space by Taylor Swift 2014

Bad Blood by Taylor Swift 2014

Look What You Make Me Do by Taylor Swift 2017

You Need To Calm Down by Taylor Swift 2019

Paper Rings by Taylor Swift 2019

The Man by Taylor Swift 2019

Closer by The Chainsmokers & Halsey 2016

Sad Girls by Melo Moreno 2018

Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish 2016

Bellyache by Billie Eilish 2017

Hostage by Billie Eilish 2017

My Boy by Billie Eilish 2017

Bad Guy by Billie Eilish 2019

You Should See Me In A Crown by Billie Eilish 2019

My Strange Addiction by Billie Eilish 2019

Ilomilo by Billie Eilish 2019

Pump Up Kicks by Foster The People 2010

Burn by Ellie Goulding 2013

Just The Way You Are by Bruno Mars 2010

Talking To The Moon by Bruno Mars 2010

The Lazy Song by Bruno Mars 2010

Grenade by Bruno Mars 2011

Locked Out Of Heaven by Bruno Mars 2012

When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars 2012

Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You) by Kelly Clarkson 2011

Stitches by Shawn Mendes 215

Treat You Better by Shawn Mendes 2016

Señorita by Shawn Mendes & Camila Cabello 2019

Born This Way by Lady Gaga 2011

Blow Me (One Last Kiss) by P!nk 2012

Elastic Heart by Sia 2013

Cheap Thrills by Sia & Sean Paul 2016

Up In The Air by 30 Seconds To Mars 2013

Gangnam Style by PSY 2012

Daddy by PSY 2015

Voodoo Doll by VIXX 2013

When Can I See You Again by Owl City 2012

Uza by AKB48 2012

Love Me Harder by Ariana Grande 2014

Into You by Ariana Grande 2015

Side To Side by Ariana Grande 2016

Thank U, Next by Ariana Grande 2018

Love The Way You Lie by Eminem & Rihanna 2010

The Monster by Eminem & Rihanna 2013

Hotter Than Hell by Dua Lipa 2016

Only Girl (In The World) by Rihanna 2010

Rude Boy by Rihanna 2010

All Of Me by John Legend 2013

No Need To Talk by C-Luv 2014

Papercut by Zedd & Troye Sivan 2015

Misery by Maroon 5 2010

Moves Like Jagger by Maroon 5 & Christina Aguilera 2011

Payphone by Maroon 5 2012

One More Night by Maroon 5 2012

Lucky Strike by Maroon 5 2012

The Man Who Never Lied by Maroon 5 2012

Animals by Maroon 5 2014

Maps by Maroon 5 2014

Sugar by Maroon 5 2015

Lips On You by Maroon 5 2017

Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots 2015

Ride by Twenty One Pilots 2015

Heathens by Twenty One Pilots 2016

Chlorine by Twenty One Pilots 2018

Teenage Dream by Katy Perry 2010

Firework by Katy Perry 2010

Corazón En La Maleta by Luis Fonsi 2014

Lego House by Ed Sheeran 2011

Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran 2014

Shape Of You by Ed Sheeran 2017

I Want You To Know by Zedd & Selena Gomez 2015

Burning In The Skies by Linkin Park 2010

Waiting For The End by Linkin Park 2010

Iridescent by Linkin Park 2010

The Catalyst by Linkin Park 2010

Lost In The Echo by Linkin Park 2012

In My Remains by Linkin Park 2012

Burn It Down by Linkin Park 2012

Lies Greed Misery by Linkin Park 2012

I’ll Be Gone by Linkin Park 2012

Castle Of Glass by Linkin Park 2012

Victimized by Linkin Park 2012

Skin To Bone by Linkin Park 2012

Powerless by Linkin Park 2012

A Light That Never Comes by Steve Aoki & Linkin Park 2013

Guilty All The Same by Linkin Park 2014

War by Linkin Park 2014

Wastelands by by Linkin Park 2014

Until It’s Gone by Linkin Park 2014

Rebellion by Linkin Park 2014

Final Masquerade by Linkin Park 2014

Darker Than Blood by Steve Aoki & Linkin Park 2015

Nobody Can Save Me by Linkin Park 2017

Good Goodbye by Linkin Park & Pusha T & Stormzy 2017

Talking To Myself by Linkin Park 2017

Battle Symphony by Linkin Park 2017

Invisible by Linkin Park 2017

Heavy by Linkin Park & Kiiara 2017

Sorry For Now by Linkin Park 2017

Halfway Right by Linkin Park 2017

One More Light by Linkin Park 2017

Sharp Edges by Linkin Park 2017

50 Ways To Say Goodbye by Train 2012

60’s Cardin by Glen Check 2011

Paint It Gold by Glen Check 2013

I’ve Got This Feeling by Glen Check 2013

Ain’t My Fault by Zara Larsson 2016

Oh Nana by K.A.R.D 2016

Solo by Jay Park 2015

Mommae by Jay Park & Ugly Duck 2015

Me Like Yuh by Jay Park & Hoody 2016

All I Wanna Do by Jay Park & Hoody & Loco 2016

Teardrops by Emmelie De Forest 2013

Calm After The Storm by The Common Linnets 2014

Tonight Again by Guy Sebastian 2014

Golden Boy by Nadav Guedj 2015

Goodbye To Yesterday by Elina Born & Stig Rästa 2015

Heroes by Måns Zelmerlöw 2015

Alter Ego by Minus One 2016

Occidentalis Karma by Francesco Gabbani 2017

Fuego by Eleni Foureira 2018

Bboom Bboom by Momoland 2018

Cool For The Summer by Demi Lovato 2015

Solo by Clean Bandit &  Demi Lovato 2018

Busted by Electroboyz & C-Luv 2013

MaBoy 3 by Electroboyz & Nana 2013

Lo Malo by Aitana & Ana Guerra 2018

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Light Em Up) by Fall Out Boy 2013)

Centuries by Fall Out Boy 2014

Immortals by Fall Out Boy 2014

Closer by Oh My Girl 2015

Control by Halsey 2015

Graveyard by Halsey 2016

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart by Backstreet Boys 2018

Feel It Still by Portugal. The Man 2017

Venus by Hello Venus 2012

Do You Want Some Tea by Hello Venus 2013

I’m Ill by Hello Venus 2015

Wiggle Wiggle by Hello Venus 2015

La La La by Naughty Boy & Sam Smith 2013

Hymn For The Weekend by Coldplay & Beyonce 2015

Love Myself by Hailee Steinfeld 2015

Female Robbery by The Neighbourhood 2012

Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood 2013

Cry Baby by The Neighbourhood 2015

Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood 2015

Go Crazy! by 2PM 2014

Playboy by EXO 2015

Monster by EXO 2016 

One Woman Army by Porcelain Black 2014

Need You Now by Lady Antebellum 2010

Just A Kiss Goodnight by Lady Antebellum 2011 

Little Apple by Chopstick Brothers 2014

Handclap by Fitz And The Tantrums 2016

Hann by (G)I-DLE 2018 

Youngblood by 5 Seconds Of Summer 2018

Easier by 5 Seconds Of Summer 2019

Teeth by 5 Seconds Of Summer 2019

Pretty Woman by Hebe Tien 2015

Fiction by Highlight 2011

Good Luck by Highlight 2014

Impermeable by Ha*Ash 2011

Lo Aprendí De Ti by Ha*Ash 2014

Peligro by Reik 2011

Que Ganó Olvidándote by Reik 2016

Spanglish by Reik 2016

Ya Me Enteré by Reik 2016

Barbie De Extrarradio by Melendi 2010

Canción De Amor Caducada by Melendi 2010

Lágrimas Desordenadas by Melendi 2012

Cheque Al Portamor by Melendi 2012

Tocado y Hundido by Melendi 2014

Otro Lío De Melendi by Melendi 2014

La Casa No Es Igual by Melendi 2016

Sor María by Maná 2011

Mayday by Oran-G 2011

Mi Novia Se Me Está Poniendo Vieja by Ricardo Arjona 2011

Lo Poco Que Tengo by Ricardo Arjona 2014

La Niña Que Llora En Tus Fiestas by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2011

Cometas Por El Cielo by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2011

El Primer Día Del Resto De Mi Vida by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2013

Estoy Contigo by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2016

Diciembre by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2016

Verano by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2016

Camino De Tú Corazón by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2016

Intocables by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2016

No Vales Más Que Yo by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2016

Cuando Menos Lo Merezca by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2016

Mi Pequeño Gran Valiente by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2016

Siempre by La Oreja de Van Gogh 2016

Bang! by After School 2010

Love Love Love by After School 2010

Someone Is You by After School 2010

Let’s Step Up by After School 2011

Shampoo by After School 2011

Virgin by After School 2011

Play Ur Love by After School 2011

Dream by After School 2011

Are You Doing Ok? by After School 2011

Funky Man by After School 2011

Into The Night Sky by After School 2011

Hollywood by After School 2011

Wonderboy by After School 2011

Lady by After School 2011

Ready To Love by After School 2011

Love Letter by After School & Son Dambi & Minhyun & Baekho & Xiyeon 2011

Rambling Girls by After School 2012

Broken Heart by After School 2012

Just In Time by After School 2012

Gimme Love by After School 2012

Miss Futuristic by After School 2012

Tell Me by After School 2012

Rip Off by After School 2012

Flashback by After School 2012

Eyeline by After School 2012

Wristwatch by After School 2012

8 Hot Girl by After School 2013

First Love by After School 2013

Dressing Room by After School 2013

Time’s Up by After School 2013

Love Beat by After School 2013

Heaven by After School 2013

Crazy Driver by After School 2013

Shh by After School 2014

Rock It! by After School 2014

Week by After School 2014

Dress To Kill by After School 2014

Ms. Independent by After School 2014

Triangle by After School 2014

Yes No Yes by After School 2014

In The Moonlight by After School 2014

Spotlight by After School 2014

Lucky Girl by After School 2014

Shine by After School 2015

Magic Girl by Orange Caramel 2010

Aing~♥ by Orange Caramel 2010

One Love by Orange Caramel 2010

Bangkok City by Orange Caramel 2011

Shanghai Romance by Orange Caramel 2011

Close Your Eyes by Orange Caramel 2011

Funny Hunny by Orange Caramel 2011

Yashashii Akuma by Orange Caramel 2012

Bubble Bath by Orange Caramel 2012

Milkshake by Orange Caramel 2012

Lipstick by Orange Caramel 2012

Lamu No Love Song by Orange Caramel 2012

Dashing Through The Snow In High Heels by Orange Caramel & NU’EST 2012

Cookie, Cream & Mint by by Orange Caramel 2013

Tenshi No Wink by Orange Caramel 2013

Red Shoes by Orange Caramel 2013

Catallena by Orange Caramel 2014

So Sorry by Orange Caramel 2014

Cried Uncontrollably by Orange Caramel 2014

Abing Abing by Orange Caramel 2014

My Copycat by Orange Caramel 2014

The Gangnam Avenue by Orange Caramel 2014

Tonight by Orange Caramel 2014

Reminding Me by Shawn Hook & Vanessa Hudgens 2017

Lay With Me by The Phantoms & Vanessa Hudgens 2018

Y by MBLAQ 2010

One Better Day by MBLAQ 2010

Running & Running by MBLAQ 2010

Sad Memories by MBLAQ 2011

Stay by MBLAQ 2011

Cry by MBLAQ 2011

Wish You Hadn’t by MBLAQ 2011

Mona Lisa by MBLAQ 2011

I Don’t Know by MBLAQ 2011

Baby U! by MBLAQ 2011

Again by MBLAQ 2011

It’s War by MBLAQ 2012

Hello My Ex by MBLAQ 2012

Run by MBLAQ 2012

100% by MBLAQ 2012

Sexy Beat by MBLAQ 2013

Smoky Girl by MBLAQ 2013

R U OK? by MBLAQ 2013

Celebrate by MBLAQ 2013

Pretty Girl by MBLAQ 2013

Dress Up by MBLAQ 2013

No Love by MBLAQ 2013

Broken by MBLAQ 2014

Be A Man by MBLAQ 2014

Key by MBLAQ 2014

Because There Are Two by MBLAQ 2014

Mirror by MBLAQ 2015

Hey U by MBLAQ 2015

I Know U Want Me by MBLAQ 2015

Tea Party by Kerli 2010

Army Of Love by Kerli 2011

Zero Gravity by Kerli 2012

The Lucky Ones by Kerli 2012

Last Breath by Kerli 2012

Sugar by Kerli 2013

Savages by Kerli 2018

Legends by Kerli 2019

Oh! by Girl’s Generation 2010

Run Devil Run by Girl’s Generation 2010

Hoot by Girl’s Generation 2010

Mr. Taxi by Girl’s Generation 2011

Trick by Girl’s Generation 2011

Paparazzi by Girl’s Generation 2012

Flower Power by Girl’s Generation 2012

Animal by Girl’s Generation 2012

Mr. Mr. by Girl’s Generation 2014

Lucifer by SHINee 2010

Sherlock by SHINee 2011

Dazzling Girl by SHINee 2012

Dream Girl by SHINee 2013

View by SHINee 2015

Dark Star by Jaymes Young 2013

Two More Minutes by Jaymes Young 2013

Moondust by Jaymes Young 2013

Running On Fumes by Jaymes Young 2013

As Long As You Love Me by Jaymes Young 2013

Habits Of My Heart by Jaymes Young 2014

I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young 2014

What Should I Do by Jaymes Young 2014

Sugar Burn by Jaymes Young 2017

Black Magic by Jaymes Young 2017

Infinity by Jaymes Young 2017

Paradox by Jaymes Young 2019

Bonamana by Super Junior 2010

Boom Boom by Super Junior 2010

My Only Girl by Super Junior 2010

Shake It Up! by Super Junior 2010

My All Is In You by Super Junior 2010

Good Person by Super Junior 2010

No Other by Super Junior 2010

Perfection by Super Junior M 2011

Off My Mind by Super Junior M 2011

Mr. Simple by Super Junior 2011

Opera by Super Junior 2011

Feels Good by Super Junior 2011

A-CHA by Super Junior 2011

Sexy, Free & Single by Super Junior 2012

From U by Super Junior 2012

Butterfly by Super Junior 2012

Break Down by Super Junior  M 2013

I Wanna Dance by Super Junior D&E 2013

Mamacita by Super Junior 2014

Evanesce by Super Junior 2014

Shirt by Super Junior 2014

This Is Love by Super Junior 2014

Can You Feel It? by Super Junior D&E 2015

Devil by Super Junior 2015

Magic by Super Junior 2015

Black Suit by Super Junior 2017

Love Song by Rain 2010

Hip Song by Rain 2010

Same by Rain & C-Luv 2010

Busan Girl by Rain 2011

30 Sexy by Rain 2013

La Song by Rain 2013 

Marilyn Monroe by Rain 2013

Baby by Rain 2013

Superman by Rain 2013

Face by NU’EST 2012

Action by NU’EST 2012

Not Over You by NU’EST 2012

Hello by NU’EST 2013

Beautiful Solo by NU’EST 2013

Sleep Talking by NU’EST 2013

Good Bye Bye by NU’EST 2014

I’m Bad by NU’EST 2015

Overcome by NU’EST 2016

My Heaven by NU’EST 2016

In Fact by NU’EST 2016

R.L.T.L (Real Love True Love) by NU’EST 2016

Love Paint by NU’EST 2016

Look (A Starlight Night) by NU’EST 2016

Just One Day by NU’EST W 2017

Where You At by NU’EST W 2017

Paradise by NU’EST W 2017

Good Love by NU’EST W 2017

With by NU’EST W 2017

I’ve Been Happy Till Now by NU’EST W 2017

Dejavu by NU’EST W 2018

Signal by NU’EST W 2018

Polaris by NU’EST W 2018

YlenoL by NU’EST W 2018

Gravity&Moon by NU’EST W 2018

Shadow by NU’EST W 2018

Bet Bet by NU’EST 2019

Bass by NU’EST 2019

Different by NU’EST 2019

Universe by NU’EST 2019

Shining Diamond by Seventeen 2015

Adore U by Seventeen 2015

Jam Jam by Seventeen 2015

20 by Seventeen 2015

Fronting by Seventeen 2015

Mansae by Seventeen 2015

OMG by Seventeen 2015

Rock by Seventeen 2015

Pretty U by Seventeen 2016

Nice by Seventeen 2016

Healing by Seventeen 2016

Simple by Seventeen 2016

Boom Boom by Seventeen 2016

Highlight by Seventeen 2016

My I by Seventeen 2017

Clap by Seventeen 2017

Sweet Dream by MFBTY 2013

The Cure by MFBTY 2013

Angel by MFBTY 2014

Buckubucku by MFBTY & EE & Dino-J & RM 2015

Bang Diggy Bang Bang by MFBTY 2015

Fly Like An Eagle by MFBTY 2015

Forever Love by Min Kyung Hoon 2019

My Everything by Han Seung Hee 2019

Take Out My Heart by Jung Dong Ha 2019

Empty by JYJ 2010

Be My Girl by JYJ 2010

Get Out by JYJ 2011

Mission by JYJ 2011

Only One by JYJ 2013

Back Seat by JYJ 2014

Letting Go by JYJ 2014

Baboboy by JYJ 2014

Valentine by JYJ 2014

One Kiss by Jaejoong 2013

Mine by Jaejoong 2013

Kiss B by Jaejoong 2013

Just Another Girl by Jaejoong 2013

Good Morning Night by Jaejoong 2016

Drawer by Jaejoong 2016

Love You More by Jaejoong 2016

Love You To Death by Jaejoong 2016

Welcome To My Wild World by Jaejoong 2016

All That Glitters by Jaejoong 2016

Tarantallegra by Xiah & Flowsik 2012

Incredible by Xiah & Quincy 2013

OeO by Xiah 2015

Stylo by Gorillaz & Mos Def & Bobby Womack 2010

On Melancholy by Hill Gorillaz 2010

To Binge by Gorillaz & Yukimi Nagano 2010

Detroit by Gorillaz 2010

Doncamatic by Gorillaz & Daley 2010

DoYaThing by Gorillaz & Andre 3000 & James Murphy2012

Ascension by Gorillaz & Vince Staples 2017

Strobelite by Gorillaz & Peven Everett 2017

Staturnz Barz by Gorillaz & Popcaan 2017

Moments by Gorillaz & De La Soul 2017

Submission by Gorillaz & Danny Brown & Kelela 2017

Charger by Gorillaz & Grace Jones 2017

Andromeda by Gorillaz & D.R.A.M 2017

Busted And Blue by Gorillaz 2017

Let Me Out by Gorillaz & Mavis Staples & Pusha T 2017

She’s My Collar by Gorillaz & Kali Uchis 2017

We Got The Power by Gorillaz & Jehnny Beth & Noel Gallagher 2017

The Apprentice by Gorillaz & Rag’n’Bone Man & Zebra Katz & Ray BLK 2017

Out Of Body by Gorillaz & Kilo Kish & Zebra Katz & Imani Vonshà 2017

Ticker Tape by Gorillaz & Carly Simon & Kali Uchis 2017

Time In A Tree by Raleigh Ritchie 2018

Inevitable by Dulce Maria 2010

Luna by Dulce Maria 2010

Dicen by Dulce Maria 2011

Antes Que Ver El Sol by Dulce Maria 2014

Te Quedarás by Dulce Maria & Frankie J 2014

Cementerio De Los Corazones Rotos by Dulce Maria 2014

O Lo Haces Tú O Lo Hago Yo by Dulce Maria 2014

Un Minuto Sin Dolor by Dulce Maria 2017

Rompecorazones by Dulce Maria 2017

No Sé Llorar by Dulce Maria 2017

Catch Me by TVXQ 2012

Humanoids by TVXQ 2012

Something by TVXQ 2014

The Chance Of Love by TVXQ 2018

Something by Girl’s Day 2014

Bubble Pop by Hyuna 2011

Make It Happen by Namie Amuro & After School 2011

Hands On Me by Namie Amuro 2013

Neonlight Lipstick by Namie Amuro 2013

We Don’t Talk Anymore by Charlie Puth & Selena Gomez 2016

Attention by Charlie Puth 2017

How Long by Charlie Puth 2017

Done For Me by Charlie Puth & Kehlani 2018

The Way I Am by Charlie Puth 2018

LA Girls by Charlie Puth 2018

Slow It Down by Charlie Puth 2018

Empty Cups by Charlie Puth 2018

I Warned Myself by Charlie Puth 2019

Mother by Charlie Puth 2019

Cheating On You by Charlie Puth 2019

Candy by Robbie Williams 2012

We Are Bulletproof Pt.2 by BTS 2013

No More Dream by BTS 2013

N.O by BTS 2013

If I Ruled The World by BTS 2013

Coffee by BTS 2013

Attack On Bangtan by BTS 2013

Boy In Luv by BTS 2014

Just One Day by BTS 2014

Tomorrow by BTS 2014

Spine Breaker by BTS 2014

Jump by BTS 2014

Miss Right by BTS 2014

Danger by BTS 2014

War Of Hormone by BTS 2014

Let Me Know by BTS 2014

Cypher Pt. 3: Killer by BTS 2014

Blanket Kick by BTS 2014

2nd Grade by BTS 2014

Look Here by BTS 2014

I Need U by BTS 2015

Dope by BTS 2015

Boyz With Fun by BTS 2015

Converse High by BTS 2015

Run by BTS 2015

Butterfly by BTS 2015

Whalien 52 by BTS 2015

Ma City by BTS 2015

Baepsae by BTS 2015

House Of Cards by BTS 2015

Fire by BTS 2016

Save Me by BTS 2016

Young Forever by BTS 2016

Boy Meets Evil by BTS 2016

Blood, Sweat & Tears by BTS 2016

Begin by BTS 2016

Reflection by BTS 2016

MAMA by BTS 2016

Lost by BTS 2016

Cypher 4 by BTS 2016

Am I Wrong by BTS 2016

21st Century Girl by BTS 2016

Wings by BTS 2016

Spring Day by BTS 2017

Not Today by BTS 2017

You Never Walk Alone by BTS 2017

Serendipity by BTS 2017

DNA by BTS 2017

Best Of Me by BTS & The Chainsmokers 2017

Dimples by BTS 2017

Pied Piper by BTS 2017

MIC Drop by BTS 2017

Go Go by BTS 2017

Fake Love by BTS 2018

134340 by BTS 2018

Paradise by BTS 2018

Love Maze by BTS 2018

Airplane Pt.2 by BTS 2018

Anpanman by BTS 2018

So What by BTS 2018

Idol by BTS 2018

Persona by BTS 2019

Boy With Luv by BTS & Halsey 2019

Mikrokosmos by BTS 2019

Make It Right by BTS 2019

Home by BTS 2019

Dionysus by BTS 2019

Do You by RM 2015

So Far Away by Suga & Suran 2016

Daydream by J-Hope 2018

Comeback Again by Infinite 2010

Waste It On Me by Steve Aoki & BTS 2018

Be Mine by Infinite 2011

Paradise by Infinite 2011

The Chaser by Infinite 2012

Safe And Sound by Capital Cities 2013

Wake Me Up by Avicii 2013

Sparks by Hilary Duff 2015

Aquí Voy by Jesse & Joy 2011

¿Con Quién Se Queda El Perro? by Jesse & Joy 2012

Decidiste Dejarme by Camila 2014

Saturno by Pablo Alboran 2017

Jenny Of Oldstones by Florence + The Machine 2019

¿No Podíamos Ser Agua? by Maldita Nerea 2011

En El Mundo Genial De Las Cosas Que Dices by Maldita Nerea 2011

Dear Future Husband by Meghan Trainor 2014

NO by Meghan Trainor 2016

[mydelightfulsalad-blog]

OKAY

So i recently rewatched Starship and something is bothering me. 

So as a *very* small latina woman, i absolutely loved seeing Taz up there being all badass with an accent and shit (and it was played by a fucking woman of color!!!!) but right now I would like to talk about a little bit of her backstory 

So we know that Taz is Latina because obviously, and we can assume that “normal” life is happening on Earth for the people that aren’t starship rangers. So i would assume based on the fact that she speaks spanglish and with the way that she talks, she probably grew up in a “bad” part of New Mexico, Colorado, Texas area. She states to Up that they met at her Quince, so 1. I would like everyone to imagine Taz in a fuckin Quince dress and 2. think about how that happened. She said the Robots came in and tried to kill her when Up showed up. 

I’m assuming they’re the same age and Ups “ageing” is a part of his look *hence the mustache*. She said that Up taught her everything she ever knew and I’m also assuming that her life changed for the violent after she met him. I’m not 100% sure when or where the robot war took place, but I’m pretty sure that at least some of it happened on Earth. When Taz was 15 she had to learn to be okay with attacks like that, and Up had to learn to handle it earlier than that. 

Up and Taz grew up fighting together and no wonder Up explains to Bug that he used to see people get mangled and destroyed and wouldn’t shed a tear. They were used to it since they were 15! There isn’t any question why Taz thinks that Up has gone soft, they needed to be strong to survive, and also why she is so paranoid and has her guard up all the time. (please add more theories/cannon things i missed)

Okay thanks for coming to my TED Talk  

[hamahsjournal]

The Boy That Broke Me

This is an odd story, in an odd setting, in a odd situation. But, unfortunately, it's my situation and writing about it is the only healthy way I know how to cope with the pain I feel every day.

I guess it started when .y family and I moved to a place I now call home, El Paso, Texas. My family moved from Maine to Texas to work in Jurez Mexico along side a couple we knew who were running an orphanage down there.

The move was hard on fifteen year old me. I was pulled from the only life and friends I ever knew and secluded in a completely new and different city. I fell into my first ever hole of depression. My depression rarely allowed me to escape from my bed, but before things got too bad I went and helped at the orphanage with my parents occasionally, that's when I met him.

My sister and I were in back of the orphanage sitting on the swing set while the kids were down for their daily rest time. A tall, lanky, good looking Mexican boy, who we'll call jose, started walking over to us. Now, let me emphasize, the fact he is a Spanish speaking Mexican and I am an English speaking American. I dont know what drove him to walk up to us bit he did.

He walked up to us and began speaking a confusing fast r rolling filled language I didnt understand at all. I think finally he got that neither my sister or I had no idea what he was saying. He smiled then and motioned to the ipod touch in my hand and said "wif-y?" To which I said "Que?" One of the five Spainish words I knew at the time. After going back and forth for way too long we finally realized he was saying Wifi and asking if my ipod was connected to the wifi. I told him "si, its connected" #spanglish . So after we laughed off the extremely awkward situation I handed him my ipod and he opened Google translate for us to be able to talk. He told us he was eighteen and worked at the orphanage. To be honest I don't remember much else of the conversation due to my embarrassment of the wifi situation.

We didnt see much of each other during the year my family lived in el Paso due to my crippling depression that only worrsend. But we were friends of Facebook and kept up to date with each others lives through the internet.

After a year of living in Texas and Mexico my family moved back to maine for reasons. My cousin, who's ten years older than me, still lived down there in the orphanage working fulltime there. So she formed a friendship with Jose and another girl who lived full time there.

In the fall of 2017, I was seventeen, I decided to make my first ever solo trip down to mexico to stay and work in the orphanage. I feel in love with it! I feel in love with the country, the kids, the language everything. You see I was so caught up in my lonely, dark world of isolating depression I never got to experience that amazing place. But what is more important to this story is I got really close to jose my cousin and friend. Like really close, like they were all my best friends.

I started to like jose as more than a friend though. He was an attractive, sweet caring twenty year old who was amazing with kids, how could I not and we were finally starting to be able to communicate! But I kept quiet never saying anything in fear of losing or messing up the friendship I had formed with the three after years of being alone.

So, after three months I returned home with a crush and new close friends. During the time I was gone though, my cousin became close to jose, like real close. Awkwardly close for someone she constantly complained about having to 'take care of', constantly texted her and acted young for his age.

I returned to the orphanage in august of 2018 after my eighteenth birthday. I continued working with the kids, loving it and rekindling my friendship with jose my cousin and our friend after being away for months.

Things were going great! But my feelings for jose were only getting stronger and stronger but I pushed them away. That was until December of that year..

My cousin was gone back to Maine for the holidays visiting family leaving jose our friend and I behind. One night jose and I were sat put back, building a fire to have smores with the kids later on. While sat by the fire though, jose turned to me and began to g me how he really liked me, actually he loved me, has for a long time. He saw us having a future, little house, kids, a dog thee whole lot!

My stomach was in my throat at his words. I remember the uncontrollable smile that was plastered to my face. It was like a stupid fairytale! I've had a crush on this boy that I was forced to repress for years scared of rejection and ruining a friendship a cherished. But I no longer had to because he also liked me, hell he said he loved me!

But I tried to be smart. I told him how i really liked him too but wanted to take things slow and not do anything until one of us moved out of the orphanage and we were no longer living under the same room, with our bosses, the directors, who we knew would have a pretty with us dating.

So we were in a weird we like each other but aren't dating faze for a while. I told our friend everything that had gone down by the fire and she was happy for us! She explained her hesitation with our living together and our odd situation but said as long as we didnt do anything stupid she supported us and was happy for us.

I was living like I was in some dumb romance novel, working a job I lived with a boy I started to like move and more with ever passing smile he would throw my way. That was until my cousin returned from her trip home.

Apparently jose had told her all that had gone down while she was away and she was not happy. She had a strange obsession with him that she claimed wasn't her liking him just her being protective.

She cornered me while we were making a meal for the kids one day and to give you all the short version, said I was trying the dynamic we had as friends, jose and I's relationship was inappropriate, we shouldn't ever do anything and it was not okay with her nor would it ever be.

This yet again triggered my uncontrolled depression. After the lecturing I escaped to my bathroom and picked back up an old habit I thought I had long left behind. I cut my hips and my sides, slumped in a ball of heart broken tears. Being the kind of person I am I took on everything she said and I hated myself.

I made sure to distance myself from jose afraid to hurt her again, which would intern hurt me. Jose eventually cause on and asked what happened I explained in a teary mess and he promised to talk to her and make things better. Well they didnt get better.

A perminant wedge was pur between my cousin and I and jose and I. I spent my nights crying hurting with my friend and spent my days hearing jose tell me how much he loves me while my cousin hated me.

My breaking point came when one day the director of the orphanage asked me to run out to the store for her to which I said sure let me see if jose and my cousin want to come and then I'll go. She then told me not to bother by cousin because she knew she was really stressed with all the work she had to get done, as she was a school teacher.

I agreed and called jose to ask him to join me. He came and while we were on our way out my cousin came out and asked "why are you guys trying to sneak off without me". Jose and I exchanged confused glances and I explained to her what had happened and that we were not trying to "sneak off".

You see, this is what she always thought. That I was constantly trying to take jose from her. That I was trying to be alone with him and have him all for myself. When in reality I was pushing him away to make sure I never did that and to keep our friendship intact.

She went on saying how it really felt like that's what we were doing. I again, told her it definitely was not and she was more than welcome to come with us (keep in mind we are going to the gro very store not a fucking resort). So she came along and ignored us the entire time. As I was getting out if the car when we returned home they mentioned going out to grab a drink before we had to get back to work.

I told them I would come but I wanted to invite our friend first, unable to be in the same room with the two of them acting like they were dating right in front of me. Cause this is how they always were. She wanted to be with him so badly she acted like his girlfriend around her and he allowed it.

When I got to my friends room to invite her, though I broke down explaining g the whole situation. My cousin hated me and jose kept saying he loved me while going around acting like her boyfriend in front of me. It felt like I was slowly being ripped apart from the inside out and my cousin didnt care at all that she was hurting me so much.

When my friend and I got in the car again my cousin called me a bitch for sneaking off without her and my friend lost it. She went off on my cousin defending me. No one had ever done this for me before. I wanted her to stop because I didnt want to add to the drama but i also wanted her to keep going because it was the first time i had felt someone actually cared about me in months.

We had a silent ride home and never spoke of the events in the car that day. Until jose pulled me aside that night and asked if i was okay. I told him no. I wasn't okay. I told him everything. How much it hurt me seeing him act like my cousins boyfriend while saying ti me how much he loved me and wanted to be with me. I told him she hurt me like I never thought she would. I told him I never wanted this drama and I needed it to end. He needed to pick if he wanted to be with me or her.

He told me it wasn't like that, that he could be friends with her na date me. To which I called bullshit and explained that he couldn't actually do that because she liked him as more than a friend and wasn't willing to let anyone near him. He was silent.

I knew what his choice was then.

I had never really understood the term 'heartbroken'until that day. I thought it was just some cheesey romance word. But no, it is so much more than that. I felt truly and utterly broken. I was destroyed. The boy I loved chose my cousin who had hurt me over and over again over me, the girl he "loved". My chest ached like I'd been shot over and over again and left to die. If it weren't for my friend putting me back together again I dont know what would have happened.

I didnt talk to him for a long time after that about a week and a half. What I never wanted had happened it was my cousin and jose against my friend and I. I destroyed our friendship.

I finally spoke to him again when him and I took the kids to their weekly swim practice. Him and I were sat up in the bleachers when I got a call. Doctors had found a mass on my mother's thyroid they believed to be cancer. I cried. I had just had the worst week of my life loosing him and my cousin and now this. I could no longer hold it together.

He held me while I cried apologizing for everything he did to me and for what I was going through. We mended our relationship then i think. We talked more after but we were okay, because I realized it wasn't him. It was her. She had manipulated him into choosing her. I still hate him somedays because in the end it was him, he made his choice.

But then theres other days where he texts me saying "I still love you" and my heart breaks all over again, knowing I cant have a relationship with him until he has a normal friendship with her. Which will never happen, because he chose her and will always choose her.

So here I am hurting everytime I think about him and the eight months I spent with him. What hurts the most is I cant stop loving him, even though I want to so fucking bad. I want to hate him and move on but I cant. He. No, they destroyed me. I'm scared to be in another relationship, terrified to hear the words "I love you" again and them not be true. They ruined my life and dont care because they have each other. Yet he has the audacity to text me still to this day telling me he still loves me.

And I'm stupid enough to want to believe him and love him back...

[lethalprctector-blog]

everything you need to know (and everything you don’t want to know) about eddie brock

BASICS. Given / Birth Name : Eduardo Carlos Allan Brock Nickname / Preferred Name : Eddie Alias(es) :  Venom Birthdate / Age :  January 21, 1990 / 29 Place of Birth : San Francisco, CA Current Location : Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, New York Gender Identity : Cis Male Sexual / Romantic Orientation : Pansexual / Panromantic, but if you ask him he just gives a non-committal shrug because he tries not to think about it Ethnicity / Race / Cultural Heritage: Mexican Marital Status : Single Occupation : Investigative Reporter / Vigilante Religious Beliefs : Roman Catholic

CHARACTERISTICS. Height : 6’3” (Eddie), 7”6” (Venom) Weight : 230 lbs (Eddie), 725 lbs (Venom) Body Type / Build : Eddie is built like a boxer - wide-shoulders, lean hips. Venom is built like a wall - large, looming, unavoidably square. Eye Color : Brown (Eddie), Opalescent White (Venom) Hair Color / Texture : Eddie’s hair is a rich brown that he keeps cropped neatly. It sits thick and he has a tendency to run his hands through it when he’s stressed. Venom is bald and slick. Recognizable Features / Scars : Eddie is pretty unremarkable, but he does have a few noticeable tattoos -- a blue swallow on his chest, near his heart; a rose on his left forearm; a sacred heart on the back of his right arm. Venom healed over his old scar tissue from old battles, erasing them from the surface of his skin. Eddie also has a few small moles scattered across his face. Venom is Really Big and Hard to Miss. Speech Patterns / Accent : Eddie has no discernible accent for the most part, though it could be argued that he sounds very Californian. He tends to drop the last consonant of words, especially verbs and adverbs (i.e., “don’t” becomes “don’” or “saying” becomes “sayin’.”) Languages Spoken : English, Spanish, Spanglish, some ASL Powers / Skills / Abilities : On his own, Eddie is at the top of his game. He’s no genius, but he has very high intelligence and he’s pretty street-smart. He can also lift up to 500 lbs on a good gym day. With help from Venom, Eddie has superhuman strength, stamina, reflexes, and agility. He can also wall-crawl, generate and manipulate his own matter, and in limited cases, shape-shift. The two of them also share a bit of ESP or spider-sense. (Eddie thinks this a dumb name for it.) Overall Health : Health isn’t much of a concern for Eddie now that he has Venom, and now that Venom is no longer trying to eat his organs. He still works out regularly and does his best to eat well, but Venom requires an absurd number of calories and absorbs most of them even when they don’t eat well. (Venom got lucky with a host with a sweet tooth.) Venom also heals any injuries or ailments that befall Eddie.

RELATIONSHIPS. Order of Birth : Second Number of Siblings : 1 Father’s Status + Relationship : Carl Brock - estranged; Carl and Eddie never really saw eye-to-eye. Growing up, all Eddie really wanted was Carl’s approval, but Carl abused Eddie, blaming him for the death of Jamie Brock. After Eddie left for college and became self-sufficient, the two fell out of touch. Eddie has grown comfortable with this for the most part, but still he googles Carl’s name every now and then just in case he’ll find an obituary. Mother’s Status + Relationship : Jamie Saldana Brock - deceased; Jamie died due to complications in childbirth when she had Eddie. Eddie has no memories of her, but cherishes photos of her and stories from others about her. It’s hard to maintain a formal ofrenda for Dia de los Muertos when you travel for work as often as Eddie does, so there’s never anything fancy, but he always buys prayer candles to keep next to his mother’s pictures on a shelf in his living room. Sibling Status + Relationship : Maria Brock + older sister: Maria is eight years older than Eddie. She helped their father raise him, doing much more work than a child should ever be expected to. When they were younger, up until the time Eddie was a teenager, Maria spent a lot of time resenting Eddie, sharing their father’s habit of blaming Eddie for the loss of her mother. Now that they’re both grown and neither really speak to their father, they’ve grown much closer and Eddie calls her every other Sunday to catch up with her. Loyalty / Affiliation : Himself/Venom.

PERSONALITY. MBTI : ISFP Hobbies : binge-watching reruns of How It’s Made, being annoying Bad Habits : compulsive lying, postpones doing dishes longer than he probably should Three Positive Traits : ambitious, charming, curious Three Negative Traits : ambitious, selfish, emotional Moral Alignment : Right on the line of Lawful/Chaotic Neutral

ASSOCIATIONS. One Song : Morph - twenty one pilots One Quote / Piece of Art : “There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.” One Fear : isolation One Strength : uninhibited dancer One Object : his motorcycle One Place : the front yard of his childhood home One Food : chocolate One Scent : fresh-baked bread One Lucky Charm : his mother’s rosary

SOME NOTES:

My Eddie and Venom are a mixed bag of canon variations and headcanons! Please bear with me because I do not know what I am doing, we’re all disasters in our own right.

I’m retconning Marvel’s retcon of Eddie’s sister because the man needs to have some stability and some healthy relationships and if they won’t give that to me I will do it myself!!

Eddie and Venom have been bonded for a few years now -- they actually bonded in New York, and were already bonded for several months by the time they moved out to California. A few months ago, they took down Carlton Drake and the LIFE Foundation. Now they’re both back in New York and ready to take on the world (and take down Spider-Man.)

Eddie is currently working as a reporter at the Daily Bugle. It feels good to be acknowledged as a respected journalist again, and work at a renowned news organization. (Take that, Daily Globe.)

If you ever see Eddie having a face journey, he’s probably just having an internal argument with Venom. The best thing to do sometimes is ignore him.

They’re still figuring out the whole vigilante thing -- they try not to go out regularly, but when they do, they do their damnedest to avoid pro-reg hero-types. 

If Eddie had friends, he’d take them to karaoke on weekends. Just a thought.